Knock
by superprincesspea
Summary: One missed knock and two blue lines. (Simon/Reader Insert)
1. Chapter 1

_Simon catches you masturbating._

* * *

You dropped the towel from around your body and flopped onto your bed. It had been a stressful day, a stressful few weeks and you needed some relief in any form you could get it. The solar shower had been lukewarm, the water more of a trickle than a stream and as it had tickled along your body you'd thought about one thing. You let your knees fall open against the mattress, your hand eased between your thighs and with a satisfied groan you pressed your finger against your swollen clit.

You needed release and you lost yourself in the chase of it. You didn't even notice your door opening or the man standing at the foot of your bed until he groaned, his silence impossible as he watched you work yourself over.

Your eyes sprang open, your fingers sliding from your pussy as it tightened towards an orgasm. "Simon," you gasped watching his gaze fixed directly between your legs, his breathing deepening.

"Don't stop on my account," he murmured, his gaze meeting yours for the briefest moment before it flicked back to your hand, urging you to carry on. You were already so close that the idea of not finishing was painful and having Simon watching you only made your need even greater. Arousal coated your fingers as you slid them back inside, the palm of your hand cupping your mound as you fucked yourself over the edge, your toes curling, your back arching and all your tension fizzling away in one long orgasm.

You lay panting, Simon never looking away as you trembled with aftershocks. "Your turn," you whispered and his eyebrows arched with interest before his lips turned into half a smile.

"My turn?" his voice was hoarse, his hand toying with his belt.

"I wanna watch you jerk yourself off," you said, sitting up in the bed, propping your cushion against the wall and getting comfortable.

"Fuckin' A," he laughed, unbuckling his belt and easing his jeans down just enough to free his hardened cock.

You lit one of your precious cigarettes, even though you'd been rationing them it wasn't every day you got to enjoy a live show and you wanted to savour it. You inhaled the smoke, blowing one long stream towards him as he began to touch himself.

Simon pumped his shaft, starting at the base before gliding over the end, making his hand slick with precum before it tightened around him. His grunts of pleasure turned you on, your clit tingling to be touched again, your body wanting to feel him inside, sliding his cock in and out of you instead of his hand. But you remained impassive, smoking your cigarette and memorising the image of him jerking off with your body as his inspiration. He didn't take long, his grunts became more intense, his hand pumped harder and suddenly he was groaning loud, his rhythm slowing as he caught the come that shot from his cock.

You pressed your thighs together, saving the feeling for later and forcing you voice to be even as you asked, "so what did you wanna talk to me about?"

"What?" he said, his voice breathy.

You stubbed your cigarette out, grabbing a tissue from the box by your bed, "you came to my room to tell me something didn't you?"

He let his soft cock slip from his hand, cleaning himself with your tissue, "I erm…" he racked his brain before laughing quietly, "I forgot."

"You forgot?"

Simon laughed a little harder, "I was thinking about something else." He eyed up the man sized space on the other side of your bed and you'd be a liar if you said you didn't consider it. But men, relationships, people, they were complications you weren't interested in.

You grabbed the scrunched up tee from your nightstand and pulled it over your head, "you should leave then."

His face fell but desire still lived in his eyes, "that's it?"

You shrugged your shoulders, you were a Savior and you took care of yourself. In every way. When Simon relented, stepping into the hall with his head low, you told him, "and next time…"

His eyes lit up.

"Knock on the fucking door."


	2. Chapter 2

Negan asked someone to take a message to Simon and you wouldn't say that you'd jumped at the chance to do it but you'd volunteered before the request had barely settled in the brains of anyone else.

You stood outside his door, a heartbeat from walking straight in before deciding to take your own advice. You knocked, twice.

"Who is it?" he called, his voice strangled and suddenly you were playing flashback to the way he'd looked when his release had filled his hand.

You squeezed your legs together, trying to keep your voice even as you replied, "its me."

There was a long pause, you almost repeated your words before he called, "come in."

Simon was standing in the middle of his bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer shorts, his erection tenting against the fabric. You couldn't help but look at it, your throat dry as the door swung shut behind you. When your gaze finally found its way to his face, he grinned and said, "I was thinking about you. I've been thinking about you all week."

"That's nice," you whisper, trying to play things cool but you're anything but cool, your heart is racing heat across your body and you can barely breathe as desire begins to fill your every thought.

Simon steps closer and you turn, reaching for the door only to be stopped as he pushes you against it. The weight of his body is heavy against yours, his skin smells of a hard day's work and his erection pushes against your back. You don't know how long you both stand like that, your bodies pressed together in silence as your breathing settles into sync with his but you relish every second of it.

"Simon," you whisper as his hand slips into your leggings, taking his chance and no doubt praying this is what you want too.

"Jesus Christ, you're wet," he groans, grinding into you, his lips pressing against your neck like he knows just what you like.

You hold in the sigh that wants to surrender to him but you can't stop the way your nipples bud for his touch and the desire that can only think about pulling down Simon's boxers and burying him inside you. You don't know how, but your sensible side finds the strength to wrap your hand around his wrist giving it a tug from your panties. "Negan wanted me to-"

Simon spins you around, slamming your back against his door before you have a chance to finish your sentence. "I don't care what Negan wants. I need to taste you, I can't stop thinking about it." He sinks to his knees, taking your leggings with him.

"But…" you press your palm against his forehead, holding him back even if you've been thinking about it too. "Negan wants you to-"

"I don't care if the goddamn buildings on fire, I wanna taste your pussy."

Your hand tightens in his hair as arousal seeps into your panties. You knew last week that things with Simon had crossed the line and that coming to his room would be a dangerous game but you'd done it anyway. You just didn't know how far you wanted to play, "If you do this then don't expect me to return the favor."

A grin slips across his face, his eyes lighting up as if he likes the idea even more this way, "I want you to come all over my face and then you can do whatever the hell you want."

Your resolve is gone. Your hand slips from his hair, anticipation tingling as you give into him. No matter how much you try to convince yourself that your fingers are just as good as any man, you know it's a lie. Even the mere feeling of his breath has you melting against the door and when his tongue finally touches you, it's hot, wet, flicking over you clit with just the right pressure before dipping inside and making you weak. Your hands cling to his head to keep you steady as he devours you, lapping your arousal and thrusting his long fingers into your pussy.

You moan, the noises loud and uncontrollable as Simon pulls his cock from his boxers, pumping it hard while his tongue builds you to the edge of an orgasm.

"Oh god, Simon, don't stop," you beg and his licks become faster, hot darts of pleasure that send you soaring as his own orgams shoots into his hand, his groans vibrating against your pussy.

"You should go see Negan," you command as you tug up your panties and leggings.

"Really?" his voice is confused and you can barely even look at him before making your awkward escape. You're not sure what you're doing with Simon, but you do know that you haven't come that hard in a long time.


	3. Chapter 3

Beads of sweat collect between your breasts as you trudge along, fantasizing about ice chinking in a full glass and what you wouldn't give for one of those mini fans they sell at airports. You ran out of water over an hour ago, you've been walking through thick undergrowth for almost two and you'd be damned if you could remember the last time you had the luxury of ice.

You stop, wiping the back of your hand across your forehead and trying to keep yourself upright. Your rifle was heavy when you picked it up this morning but with humidity choking your every breath it's starting to feel like the weight might actually drag you into the realms of hell if weren't already there.

The only thing keeping you going is Simon and it's not because you like the way his shirt's pasted to his back and that every step he takes has the fabric molding to the flex of his muscles. It's because you didn't want to be the one to break the silence that's festered between you. You didn't want to be the one that was weak. It was stubbornness that had kept your lips sealed but now you're not sure if you can take another step if it isn't a step towards home and you're not willing to kill yourself for the sake of pride.

"We should go back," you say, forcing the words from your lips and breaking the silence.

Simon turns, biting back a smile as he looks you up and down. The sigh he makes as he slumps against a tree tells you he's glad for the rest and you wonder why you've both spent the morning killing yourselves in the heat. Except you kind of know the reason for that. It's not just this morning you haven't spoken. You haven't spoken since your last 'encounter' and maybe that wasn't the most adult way to handle things but there it was.

"I've been busting my ass all morning waiting for you to actually say something," he says and your heart almost stops.

"I didn't ask you not to talk to me," you retort.

"But you've been avoiding me."

You laugh, avoiding eye contact, "I've got better things to do than spending my time trying to avoid you, why would I do that?"

"Because you kinda like me," his voice playful. Your head whips around to look at him, your cheeks filling with added heat as you plan on denying everything.

"I kinda like you too," he adds before you can say anything, the smile on his face widening, "I kinda liked you even before I-"

"Simon-" you hold up your hand, "this, isn't happening. We're not talking about this, lets just go back and…" You don't know what you're trying to say and with every word he's stepping closer, so close that suddenly his hands are sliding around your waist and the smell of his skin has you forgetting you were even trying to make some sort of point.

You wait for him to say something or even better, kiss you but his hands fall from your waist, his head cocks to the side and before you know it he's hurrying through the trees on long legs, leaving you alone in the clearing. You breath out a frustrated breath, the anticipation of a kiss still on your lips as you chase him, stumbling to keep up and colliding into the hard planes of his back when he finally stops.

"Jesus Simon, what the hell's wrong with you?" you hiss, annoyed at how much you wanted him to kiss you.

He doesn't answer, he just laughs and you feel the coolness of water before you see it, before you even realise what caught his attention. _The sound_. The splash of a waterfall as it hits the surface of a pool.

Together you peer over the embankment, a smile inching across your lips and like the rest of the morning neither of you say a word. Your rifle hits the dirt, you fingers eager to pull open the buttons of your shirt as you both begin tearing off your clothes like it's a race for the finish. Simon's much faster. His clothes are strewn across the forest floor before he steps back, giving himself a run up then bounding for the water without a single stitch of clothing to cover what's swinging between his legs.

You're heart has forgotten how the beat, your hands have forgotten what they were doing. All you can do is watch, captivated by the sight of him, strong and lean, swan diving into the pool and barely making a splash.

When he surfaces, water is running rivulets over his face, beads catching in his moustache and as he looks up to you he begins grinning like a kid with his daddy's playboy. That's when you remember that most of your clothes are at your feet leaving you standing in nothing but a bra and panties for your one man audience.

"Are you coming in or are you just gonna stand like that all day, not that I'm complaining or anything. Stand like that all you want," he teases, his hands wading through the water, most of his body blurred from your prying eyes.

You step back to where he can't see you, a buzz of nerves fizzing around your stomach. You could pull your clothes back on and wait at the top, you could even leave him but you don't, you unhook your bra and do what you seem to do best when you're with Simon, stip off your clothes and give into impulse. The last thing you remove is your hair tie, guiding it along your pony and shaking out your hair until you're standing bare and free like a wild animal in the middle of the wilderness.

"You still there?" he calls and you chuckle under your breath, making sure you have a big enough run before charging forward and doing the only thing you know how, _cannonball_.

You land with a colossal splash, plunging under the water and finding the ultimate relief from the humidity before bobbing back to the surface to the sound of Simon's laughter.

"That feel good?" he says, splashing you as he shakes off all the water you've soaked him with.

You don't answer, the smile on your face is answer enough. It feels amazing.

You tread water, coyly bobbing around like you're not completely naked with Simon but he isn't interested in playing more games. He dives towards you sliding his hands around your body, his fingers splaying across your stomach as he pulls you towards him. You feel his erection, hard and bare pressing against your thigh, letting you know how much he wants you and what he plans to do with you.

"You know this is right," he whispers, his hands moving to cup your breasts, squeezing them gently before his thumbs stroke across your nipples with just the right amount of pressure. You gasp, sinking deeper into the water and drowning in the sensation that tingles between your thighs.

Simon turns you to face him, sliding his hands to the backs of your legs and pulling them around his waist. The weight of your body is supported by the water, leaving his hands free to caress your skin, one glides along your spine as she other buries into your hair, pulling your lips to his. He holds you tight as he kisses you, his lips possessing yours like he more than 'kinda likes' you and despite trying to reject him you meet his passion with your own.

When you feel his cock pressing for entry you grind against it, desperate to feel more of him, arousal soaking into the water. Simon fills you in one long motion, sliding all the way in, his mouth panting against your neck as your head falls back, you body surrendering to the moment. Having him inside you feels as good as you imagined it would, better even, its been a long time since you'd been with a man and you want him to remind you of what it feels like to be fucked so hard you can barely breath.

"Simon," you whimper and he begins to move, sliding in and out, his fingers digging into your thighs to keep your body wrapped around his.

"Jesus baby," he moans, losing himself as he greedily fills your body with his cock, his hands exploring, sliding over your skin as he struggles to fuck you and touch you at the same time.

With a grunt he begins carrying you towards the bank and when the water is shallow enough he settles you into the mud before he falls between your legs and sinks inside you again. Now his thrust are harder, more certain as his moustache chases the kisses he peppers along your neck and you relish every moment of it.

You run your hands along his back, guiding his motion as your hips meet his stroke for stroke, the familiar knot tightening. You want the feeling to last for longer but you know you can't stop what is already starting to bubble over. "Keep going," you beg, urging him faster and faster until your orgasm bursts free, waves of pleasure washing over you as your pussy squeezes tight around his cock, your body milking Simon's orgasm with your name groaning from his lips.

He rocks against you as you ride out the aftershocks, both of you lapping up the breathless feeling's that are shuddering along your bodies. He kisses the tip of your nose, his softened cock slipping out, leaving you feeling stretched and perfectly sated. You sigh, not even caring that you're lying in the mud as you stretch your arms above your head, the humidity already heating your skin.

It's not until Simon rolls off you that the proof of his climax begins dripping down your thigh. He lies on his back, pulling you into the crook of his arm just as your stomach drops with realization. He came inside you. You sit bolt upright, shoving him away with one hard push as if it will make a difference to what has already been done.

Simon's eyes spring open, "Jesus! You have a real interesting way of treating a man after he makes you moan his name like you were having a damn good time. You enjoyed it and so did I," his fingers tiptoe along your leg, bringing you closer, "I see no reason why we shouldn't do this more, and in my bed, even if you are ten shades of goddamn crazy." He kisses your shoulder, "you're still goddamn cute."

You bat his advances away, your heart thumping in your chest, "stop. We need to get back."

"What the hell's wrong with you?" When you try to stand up he stops you, "you're not walking away from me this time, baby. You wanted this, don't pretend you didn't and don't make me feel like a fucking asshole."

A sensible person would explain what was wrong, you say, "just fuck off, Simon!"

His face falls and you use the opportunity to stand.

"You're a goddamn lunatic, do you realise that?" he shouts, losing his cool like he almost never does.

"Then fucking leave me alone," you snap, annoyed that you were so careless and annoyed that Simon isn't the one who has to deal with the potential consequences. How could you be so stupid? This was exactly why you didn't want to get involved with a man.

You throw yourself back in the water, struggling to swim across to the side where your clothes are as panic fires around your body. It was all so sexy when you jumped in but now you're sliding on the wet grass as you try to climb onto the bank and you're feeling anything but sexy. Your shin scrapes against a rock just as Simon shouts, "you can't get up that way, you're gonna hurt yourself! Jesus Christ, if you're gonna run away at least don't kill yourself!"

His warnings only make you more committed to your efforts as you drag yourself to the top with sheer determination. Your hands are shaking as you redress and by the time you're buttoning up your jeans he's wrapping his fingers around your wrist and turning you to face him.

His face is etched with concern, his thumb brushes against your palm, "am I missing something here? I thought we were-"

"I don't wanna hear it, Simon! Just put some fucking clothes on and leave me alone!" You spit, flinging your arms to the sides to get him away from you before you grab your rifle and begin storming towards home.

"You're going the wrong way, sweetheart!" he calls after you and you stop, looking at him just enough for him to point you in the right direction but he doesn't. He looks away from you as he pulls on his clothes, not bothering to put his shirt back on before he starts marching through the trees, barely giving you opportunity to keep up with him as your stomach churns with the possibility that you might end up with a permanent reminder of this day. A permanent reminder that Simon kinda likes you and you kinda like him.


	4. Chapter 4

You didn't need a trip to Doctor Carson's office to know that you were pregnant. Your body had told you that even if you'd been trying to ignore all the signs. First you'd blamed your missing period on stress. Then, when you'd started to the experience the morning sickness that was never quite contained to only the morning, you'd spent three days convincing yourself it was just a stomach bug. You supposed in a way it was, a baby bug hitching a ride in your womb and right now it felt like it was draining the life right out of you.

You glance at Simon, he's standing in the middle of the road talking to Negan, even laughing with Negan and you wonder what his reaction would be if he knew the truth. You just don't wonder it enough to actually tell him. You've been avoiding him since your skinny dip and for almost a month he's let you. Today isn't going to be any different. You'll keep trying to force your head into the sand and he'll remain blissfully unaware, you envy him of that.

"There's more," Arat warns and you try not to roll your eyes as you turn to see yet another group of roamers ambling onto the freeway. With a sigh you raise your knife, telling yourself that you can do this, that it will be dark soon and you can make it until then just like all the other times you've helped clear the dead. Truthfully, you've been ready for bed since you'd gotten out of bed this morning and you're one kill away from crawling into a truck to take a nap no matter who might see or question it.

You trail behind the others, everyone else is already driving knives through skulls like it's a competition and you don't know which idiot it is that slices open the stomach of a roamer but you do know that the smell hits you like nothing else. You double over, no chance to hide it or aim it as the remains of your own stomach purges half on your shoes and half on the road.

"Nice," Arat laughs at you, "that's the third time I've seen you chuck up today, I didn't realise you were such a pussy."

"She's not," Laura counters as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and take the bottle of water she offers.

Your heartbeat quickens, you thought you'd done a good job of hiding your nausea and you can feel people staring even if you're doing your best not to look. When Arat speaks again her voice is loud. In fact, it sounds loud enough to travel all the way back to the Sanctuary when she says, "you're not knocked up are you?"

You spit your water straight out of your mouth, trying not to glance at Simon but doing it anyway. He's looking directly at you, well, more like staring as memories of last month obviously slot into place, his face twitching, his long legs quickly striding your way.

 _Fuck_. Escape seems like the best option so you turn on your heel and begin to walk, barely making it more than four paces before Simon's hand is hooking under your elbow to the tune of Negan declaring, in the obnoxious way that only he can, "I guess we all know who the baby Daddy is."

A chorus of laughter follows and you don't look at anything but your soiled shoes as Simon steers you away from the others only letting your arm out of his hand when you're standing behind a truck and out of sight of everyone else.

When you dare to look at him he's pacing, stroking his fingers over his mustache as his mind whirrs. You can practically hear the hum of what you're sure are a million different thoughts racing around and when he finally speaks the first thing he says is hardly the most elaborate, "pregnant?"

 _No shit Sherlock._ You can't look at him now that you have his attention, you stare off into space and shrug a very non committal, "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

His tone is more concerned than accusatory but you still glare at him, you don't want his concern, "I haven't taken a test, but what does it matter anyway? It makes no difference to you."

Simon laughs, shaking his head like you've just made the biggest joke he's ever heard. "If you're carrying my kid then it makes a big fucking difference to me."

The last thing you want is to be some sort of charity case, "it's not your problem."

His smile simmers down, his eyes narrowing with sincerity, "it's not a problem."

"Isn't it?" you choke and when he presses his palm against your belly you lose all control as a rush of emotions begins bubbling for release. You couldn't stop the tears even if you wanted to and when they burst free Simon wrap his arms around you, squeezing you tight as all the worry pours out in ugly sobs you're sure everyone can hear.

When you've finished and your throat is hoarse you wipe your nose on the end on his shirt and he lets you without complaint. You're embarrassed about crying even if you probably could blame most of it on the hormones but mostly you're pissed. You didn't want Simon to comfort you like that and you certainly didn't want it to feel as safe as it did. From the moment you realised your condition you'd decided to put all the blame on him and his stupid mustache. It was easier than facing the reality that a moment of careless fun could have signed your death sentence, you didn't want to accept that you could be as reckless as that.

You push him away, this baby could kill you and even if it doesn't it's just gonna make your life more difficult than it already is. You're not the type of woman to stand around crying and cuddling even if that's exactly what you just did.

He grins despite the way you're glaring at him and when he reaches out to touch you again you bat his hand away. "I'm not playing happy families with you Simon. This was a mistake because you can't control your dick! If you wanna help me then you can… tell everyone it was you that was crying and…"

He starts laughing again, looking at you in a way that makes your stomach flutter with something other than nausea. You push the feeling away and focus on the irritating fact that he's laughing at you, "just… leave me alone until I ask for your help."

"Let me get this straight," he chuckles, "you want me to tell everyone it was _me_ wailing like a dying cat?"

Maybe it was stupid, in fact it was definitely a stupid request but you want him to do it anyway, "yes."

"Fine," he shrugs, his eyes dancing with amusement, "I'll tell everyone I was crying like a girl. _But,_ I won't leave you alone."

He doesn't wait for your response, probably because he knows your response would be something along the lines of 'tough shit'. He starts strolling back towards the group, a spring in his step and his arms out wide. "Looks like i'm gonna be a Daddy and I'm not ashamed to admit that I cried some tears of joy back there."

You feel a smile threatening your face at the same time Negan pulls his, " _really_? _That was you?"_

"It was an emotional goddamn moment, a kid on the way and this hot mamacita has agreed to marry me."

You can feel your face falling, your jaw practically hitting the floor and even though you want to scream something you don't say a word. Partly because the shock has numbed your tongue but mostly because you've made enough scenes for one day, enough scenes for one entire year. So you remain motionless, clenching your fists at your side and silently seething as Simon turns, grinning like a buffoon and even having the the audacity to wink at you.

You smile sweetly. Sure, you might not be saying anything right now but you'll be killing him when you get back to the Sanctuary.


	5. Chapter 5

On the drive back to the Sanctuary Simon's Jeep is filled with other Saviors making it impossible for you to 'talk' to your soon to be 'husband' or in other words making it impossible for you to shout at the dickhead with the moustache. So although he's sat you in pride of place next to him you don't look him in the eye as you stew in silence and when he reaches his hand to rest on your knee you shove it away, edging your body closer to the door, the word 'asshole' running around your brain and begging for release from your sealed lips.

Lucky for Simon, you want to keep hold of at least a shred of your dignity so you wait for the Jeep to pull over and everyone to file out before you finally turn your attention to him. It's not the speech you'd been perfecting in your head but it gets the general message across, "you're a fucking idiot!"

Simon snorts in laughter, "thanks."

The way he looks at you only makes you angrier, "why the hell did you say that?"

"Say what?"

"Are you fucking kidding me right now, Simon?" You throw your hands out, your frustration finding as much release as possible in the confines of the Jeep. "Why the hell did you tell everyone that I was marrying you!"

Simon shrugs, a smile dancing in his eyes as he attempts to play it cool, "you tell me how a guy can resist a woman that's as sweet as you are, Honey Bun? And call me old fashioned but I think a man should marry the woman who's having his kid."

"What makes you so sure it's your kid?" you snap, your response making you feel as petty as you sound.

His eyes narrow, the hint of play leaving behind something else, "it better be."

"It is," you say quickly because despite your anger you don't like the idea that it isn't or the way he's looking at you.

Relief relaxes his features, "good, that settles it then. This isn't like before, you can't just have your wicked way and then avoid me, you're my woman now and I've made sure everyone knows it."

"I'm not your woman," you hiss.

"It doesn't really matter what _you_ think, what matters is that everybody knows that's my baby in your belly so they better not fuck with you and they better make damn sure they're watching over you."

You can't deny that Simon's name has power. You were already reaping the reward of it by just sitting in the passenger seat of his Jeep instead of being crammed into the back of the truck where you usually sat. But that doesn't mean you want to marry him, it's bad enough you're pregnant, you're not about to do something stupid like fall in love.

He opens the door, jumping down to join the others and if he thinks that's the end of the conversation, he's in for a surprise. "I'm not finished with you!"

"You bet your ass you're not," Simon winks like he's won the battle before slamming the door like he doesn't really care what you're planning on saying next. You watch him as he struts across the courtyard, his hand resting on his belt as Negan slaps him across the back, no doubt making some crude remark which they both start to laugh about before Simon glances back to you.

"Asshole," you whisper, your cheeks burning red as you quickly slink from the Jeep.

Arat calls your name but you ignore her as you hurry inside, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the rush to the safety of your little room. It's only a matter of time before the entire Sanctuary knows you're pregnant and you're not ready to face the reality of it on such a grand scale.

You were hoping to have part two of you conversation with Simon before you fell asleep but by the time he makes an appearance you're already curled around your blanket, lost to the Sandman. The dip in your mattress as he makes himself comfortable is what has you waking up. Your eyes spring open, your body startles into action with your hand flailing to push away what you're sure is trying to kill you. Only when you clip the side of his jaw do you realise its Simon and not the boogeyman.

"Jesus, that's some left hook you got," Simon praises, rubbing his face with a small smile as you sit up, scooting along the mattress to create some distance between you both.

You run your fingers through your hair, flattening out the bedhead and feeling even more annoyed at him than before, "what kind of creep sneaks into someones room while they're sleeping?" You don't give him time to answer before snapping, "oh wait, probably the same kind of creep that tells everyone I'm gonna marry them. You know just because you said it doesn't mean it's happening, I don't care how old fashioned you are.."

"Now hold up just a minute here sweetheart," he edges closer to you, "why don't you tell me what kind of ' _creep'_ doesn't tell a man she's having his kid?"

You pause a moment, his question taking you by surprise before you say, "how do you know I wasn't going to tell you?"

"Because we've met."

"What's that supposed to mean?" you demand.

"Most people like to get acquainted after being _intimate_. You told me to fuck off and didn't speak to me or even look at me for a month which makes you pretty much the most neurotic woman I've ever met. But don't worry," he smiles, his hand squeezing your thigh "I kinda like the crazy ones."

You don't know what's worse, the fact that he says it like a compliment or the fact that you almost laugh. "I should have hit you harder."

"Too bad," he smiles, "besides, what's done is done and I've brought you a little something."

"If it's a engagement ring I'll scream."

A flash of inspiration flashes across his face and you wish you'd never mentioned the word ring as Simon reaches to the floor, coming back with a tupperware full of what looks like chicken soup. When he unclips the lid the smell hits you like putrid walker stomach and you retch, scrambling from the bed to shove your face in the bucket that has become your puking station. "Are you trying to fucking kill me?"

Simon crouches next to you, his hand large as it splays between your shoulder blades and soothing as it strokes along your spine. Even if its comforting you're not ready for it so you shrug him away, "what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm making you feel better."

"Well… stop touching me." You can barely get yourself accustomed to a baby, you don't need a man to worry about too.

"You're shitting me, right?"

You reach for a tissue, wiping the corners of your mouth. "It's called personal space, Simon. I might be incubating your spawn but I'm not marrying you and I don't need you to stroke me like a fucking dog."

"Don't say spawn," he pulls a face, reaching for the glass of water on your nightstand. "And you are marrying me. Negan's already making the arrangements. Do you wanna be the one to tell him, no? You know there's nothing our almighty leader likes more than the sanctity of holy matrimony."

You scoff, practically choking on your water for that second time in one day, "then maybe you should marry Negan since you're both so into wedding planning?"

Simon chuckles, hucking his thumb into his belt loop, "nah, I don't wanna be wife number six and little black dresses aren't exactly a good look on me."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Simon, you'd be a beautiful bride and I don't think Negan's very picky…"

"Well lucky for you darlin', I'd rather marry the incubator of my spawn," he pokes you on the end of the nose in a way that might be cute if you were a five year old.

"Are you in love with me, Simon?" you blurt without really thinking.

He shifts back on his heels, considering it as he runs his thumb over his moustache, "I'm not gonna lie to you. No, I'm not."

"Good," you say quickly, your heart sinking even if that was the answer you'd wanted, "I was just about to think you really were a huge creep."

He grins, "but I've been trying to get us both there or at least something close. You don't exactly make it easy for a man."

"What do you mean you've been trying to get us _there_? You realise walking in on me while I'm naked isn't exactly a first date right?"

He laugh, his eyes bashful as they fall to the floor while he gathers his words, "you think I had to personally bring you some bullshit message that day?"

You knew he didn't. "Why did you?"

He tips his head to the side, "because you make me laugh." Then he grins, "doesn't hurt that you're also a goddamn knockout."

You blush and you definitely don't want him to see it so you do the first thing you can think of. You shove his shoulder, hoping to knock him off balance and onto his ass but like a well rooted rock he barely budges and if he's noticed the way you're blushing like a schoolgirl he doesn't say. He just smiles, his gaze travelling down to your waist and back up, "you should get some rest."

"You're the one waking me up and making me puke," you retort, giving him a hard time.

Simon stands, kissing the top of your head and chuckling as he picks up the tupperware of food, "I'll try not to do that next time."

"And you'll tell Negan we're not getting married?"

"At least gimme a chance to convince you first," he says as he escapes the room before you have chance to tell him 'he won't'.


	6. Chapter 6

It's points day and it might not be the best idea you've ever had but you know exactly what you want to buy. Once a smoker, always a smoker. Still, you find yourself muttering the request under your breath like a dirty word. It is a dirty word. You're pregnant and no doubt Negan has already spread the good news with his almighty mouth.

It's a woman called Doris working the desk today and she's never liked you, you don't think Doris has ever liked anyone. She looks you up and down, not even trying to hide her distaste as she slowly eases stiff legs off her chair to fill your order. When she returns she's holding a grey plastic crate filled with supplies, she sits them in front of you and slumps back onto her seat with an overexerted heave of stale breath.

It makes your stomach turn but you manage to swallow the feeling down as your eyes quickly scan the contents of the crate. It's mostly filled with fruit, tinned and fresh. But it's what's sitting on top that truly catches your attention. A tub of Prenatal Vitamins next to a box of decaffeinated tea. "What's this?" you hiss, trying to keep your voice as low and even as possible.

Doris doesn't even bother to look at you, she just starts flicking through the pages of her ledger, placing a big red tick next to your name, "that's your allowance."

"I didn't ask for this crap." Even if you probably should have. "I asked for cigarettes," you say a little louder, you're not trying to win any parenting awards here. You're trying to ease the tension that's been knotting around you body every time you picture the next few months and beyond.

"Look sweetheart," Doris gives you her full attention now. "Simon said this is what you're allowed and I'm not about to get myself on the wrong side of the boss man so you can have your cancer sticks and" she said the next part with a cruel smile, "suffocate that poor little baby."

You thought you knew what it felt like to feel guilty but apparently you didn't. Your hand found a home on your belly and you hated yourself for even considering smoking a cigarette, you just didn't want Doris to be the one to make you feel like that. "You're a real mean old bitch, you know that?"

Her smile beamed even wider. "That comes with age and infirmity, now move your pretty little ass along so I can serve the others. Not everyone is lucky enough to get knocked up into a free ride and have their boyfriends buying up all the fresh fruit."

You let the boyfriend comment slide, grabbing your crate, your jaw set with indignation as you yanked it from the table and yes, you are petty enough to purposely knock her stack of ledgers onto the floor as you go.

You don't even hear what she says as you walk away, you're too busy thinking about your husband to be as you storm through the Sanctuary reeling with a mix of emotions. You barge straight into Simon's room, your foot kicking open the door, the crate of food practically spilling over.

He's standing shirtless, his face half covered in foam and a cut throat razor in one hand. "Now who's forgetting to knock?" he teases and you slam your box onto a little glass dining table that sits close to the door.

"This is bullshit!" You say.

"I'm pretty sure I asked for fruit and vitamins," he replies, not missing a beat.

"Don't be cute! I'm about five seconds from shoving this cantaloup up your ass."

You can see he's trying to bite back a smile and his effort does nothing to stop you wanting to start throwing fruit at him.

"I was thinking about the first time I saw you," he says, ignoring the way you're scowling at him. "I asked you if I could help you to your room and you told me to fuck off."

"Yeah," you try not to laugh, laughing wouldn't exactly prove the point you're trying to make here, "well, my feelings remain the same."

His smile sneaks across his face, now completely unhindered and your feelings really are the same as the first time you ever saw Simon, you still think he looks just as handsome when he smiles.

"You're a terrible liar," he says, sitting on the edge of the dining table, his thigh pressing against yours, his face just that little bit too close to yours.

Suddenly you've forgotten what you were saying or what point you might have been trying to make. "What?" you whisper.

He brushes your hair behind your ear, "you don't want me to fuck off."

A shiver of goosebumps follows where his thumb brushes down your neck and you push his hand away, you don't want him to be be right and "you don't know the first thing about me, Simon."

"So tell me. What's the first thing about you?"

What was there to say? Everyone you ever knew and any life you thought you had was gone. For the longest time all you'd had was survival, one day at a time until you came here, you became a Savior and you got your own little room. It had been enough, you didn't need anything more and now more was sitting in front of you and growing inside your belly like an unwelcome guest.

"Sit down," you pull out one of the dining chairs and he raises his eyebrows questioning your motives. "I can't talk to you with that all over your face," you say, gesturing to the shaving cream before moving to pick up the razor.

You hear him chuckle as he takes a seat, stretching his long legs under the table that now seems ridiculously tiny when you turn to see him sitting at it.

You stand behind him, tilting his head back until his eyes are locking with yours and your lips curve into a slow smile. You press the blade to his neck, just enough to keep him steady and completely at your mercy. "The first thing about me… I don't like being told what I can and can't spend my points on."

"I didn't want you smoking," he says, barely batting an eye at the fact that you're holding a knife to his throat and he's not trying to manipulate you or lie about why he ordered the fruit. The way he's looking at you with his eyes so big and wide reminds you of a puppy dog and you find yourself letting the blade slide away away from his neck. In his own overbearing way he's trying to look after you but that doesn't mean you're going to like it.

"Cigarettes are my stress relief," you admit, carefully scraping the blade against the stubble that lives on his cheek before wiping the foam on the towel he has draped over his shoulders.

"I get it. I've seen the bottom of more than my fair share of gin bottles since the world went to hell but it doesn't change things and there are better ways to relieve, _tension_..."

You knick his chin and he hisses, a drop of blood rolling down his neck and weaving red with the white foam. "Have you ever done this before?" he asks, pressing his finger against the cut.

You bite your lip, feeling sheepish before admitting, "no."

" _Never_?" Simon exclaims, turning to look at you with more amusement than anything else and you shrug one shoulder feeling even more sheepish when he laughs at you.

"I can't believe I let you near the 'tache!" he exclaims even louder, standing and striding to grab the mirror he'd been using when you entered the room. He sits it on the dining table before sitting back down.

You feel wooden when he takes your hand, guiding you back to his face, the blade against his cheek. "Go with the grain," he says, instructing your hand with his and maybe you should have been concentrating while he guided you but all you can think about is the way his hand emcompasses yours and how big those sames hands would look changing a tiny diaper.

You don't even hear the rest of his instructions or even watch what you're doing. Your heart is hammering in your chest, your mind lost to imagination until he releases your hand, his wide grin reflected in the mirror, "just like that. You wanna do the rest?"

You shake your head, placing the blade on the table in front of him, "I should go."

"I haven't rotored you to work today…" he laughs quietly, shifting in his seat, "you should stay."

"I might not have work but I have better things to do than spending my day pampering your face," you snap, turning on your heel and walking away.

This time Simon doesn't let you walk away. He chases you down the hallway, his hands taking hold of your shoulders. "No running," he commands, steering you back to his room and kicking the door shut with his foot before sitting you on the sofa.

He looks at you thoughtfully, cocking his head to the side, "I think we should spend some time together."

"I think that's what got us into this mess."

Simon laughs, "well we're in it now sweetheart and I you don't have anything better to do today."

He's right of course, when you're not working there's not much to keep you occupied. Sometimes you play a hand of cards in the common room, sometimes you share a cigarette with Laura but mostly you try to avoid making any real friends and spend your days alone.

He grabs his razor, continuing what must have been the longest shave of his life, leaving you with nothing to do but watch and realise just how nice Simon's room is compared to the shoebox you called home. It's like a studio apartment, one large space all sectioned off into different zones. A kitchenette with a dining table for two, a bed big enough for three and living area complete with a TV and an actual jukebox.

You pick up a book from his bookshelf, sinking into sofa and when he passes you a steaming cup of decaf tea you can admit, at least to yourself, that this isn't so bad. He takes a seat next to you, the smell of his coffee piquing your interest as you look at the murky water of your tea. It's not that you don't like tea, its that you _love_ coffee.

Simon barely takes his eyes off you as silence begins to build between each sip of too hot tea. "Well this is awkward," you announce.

Simon chokes on his coffee, "you're making me nervous."

Simon, nervous, it doesn't seem probable but then he has that same bashful look you saw last night and it makes you smile a little. "Maybe it's because you kidnapped me," you say, tartly, he's the one forcing you to be here right now even if you do kinda like it.

"Be fair, I wouldn't say I kidnapped you."

You settle your cup onto the edge of the bookshelf, "you wouldn't let me leave."

Simon snorts, leaning over you to place his mug next to yours, "I wouldn't let you run away."

"Same. Difference."

"You always have to get the last word in?" he teases, the smell of his aftershave balm making your mouth water, the way he smiles making your heart flutter.

You want to ignore the way he's crept along the sofa so your knee is flush with his, but you can't, "yes."

"Okay then," he swallows hard, his gaze falling to your lips and resting there like he's forgotten he was talking to you.

"Fine," you whisper mirroring the way he's leaning closer, your mouth parting, your heartbeat more thud than flutter and when your lips touch Simon's you moan, the sound escaping before you can even think about controlling your reaction to how good it feels to kiss him.

He takes the sound as a sign to pull you towards him, his hand brushing down your spine, the kiss deepening as you sink down into the sofa. Simon's weight covers you, possesses you, the smell of his skin is intoxicating and the tickle of his mustache sends shivers that heat between your thighs. You make out like teenagers with an empty house, hands exploring clothed bodies, hips grinding together as his lips explore down your neck, his thumb pushing open the buttons of your shirt and your nipples bunching for his touch.

"At least you can't get any more pregnant, right?" Simon pants and suddenly you're shoving him away, your heart pounding and common sense signalling a million alarm bells around your head.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you say, buttoning your shirt, the more you do this the harder it will get to keep him away.

"You're wrong," Simon's fingers traced along your thigh in a lingering touch that threatens to throw all common sense right back out of the window.

You don't reply. You can't. You have no idea what to think or feel when you're with him. He has a way of making you forget everything you thought you wanted and you don't like feeling so unsure, so vulnerable to him. "Don't stop me from leaving," you say.

"You can leave, just don't runaway."

You grab your crate and hover at the door before saying, "bye." Simon's right, you can't keep running away but that doesn't mean you can't walk.


	7. Chapter 7

"You're not on the list," Fat Joey mumbles, barely making eye contact with you as the Sanctuary's forecourt bustles with Saviors, everyone but you loading themselves into the back of trucks for the monthly run to Hilltop.

"What do you mean 'I'm not on the list'?" you demand as nicely as you can while trying to catch a glimpse at the clipboard of names. Being on the list for these runs is how you earn the big points, the kind of points that pay for tampons and cigarettes, not that you need those things anymore. Now you need to think about diapers and breast pads and they don't come cheap if you're lucky enough to get hold of them at all.

"It's not up to me," Joey's gaze leads directly to Simon and suddenly everything makes perfect sense.

" _Right_ ," you huff, knocking Dwight out of the way as you make a beeline for your 'boss'.

Simon's crouching down checking the back tyre of his Jeep and he doesn't even look at you before saying, "I'm not putting you back on that list, sweetheart."

"This is exactly what I was talking about yesterday!"

Simon stands, his height towering over you, his lips curved into a wonky smile as he shrugs, "it's nothing personal." His smile gets a little bolder, it's the kind of smile that makes you think that 'personal' is exactly what it is.

"Bullshit, Simon! Telling me how to spend my points is bad enough, telling me I can't work is way out of line and you know it."

"I'm sorry about the points thing. You're right about that. But you're also exhausted, throwing up all over the place, a goddamn liability by all accounts. So, you're off the list just like anybody else." He hooks his thumb in his belt and you can tell he's trying not to gloat as he insists, "no special treatment. Even if I do happen to think you're a very special sort of lady."

The last part makes you blush enough that you turn your face away from him, but the first part has you clenching your jaw in frustration. He's right and he's being so fucking reasonable that you can't even think of a good reason to be annoyed and that alone is enough to annoy you. "So what list am I on?" you say, trying to suppress the frustration you feel filling you from top to toe.

Simon frowns, "come again?"

"I'm not going to Hilltop so where exactly am I working today, _Boss_?"

" _Boss_?" he smirks, "you know a man can get used to that."

You scoff, "you didn't answer my question."

He looks away from you, wiping his hand over his mustache. "I haven't given you another assignment," he says, making his way to the door of the Jeep and if he thinks he can make a quick getaway then he's wrong.

You move to stand in front of him, your palm pressed against his chest, "how am I supposed to earn points if I don't have a job?"

Simon cocks his head to the side, his eyes puppy dog soft as they gaze at you, "you really don't need to worry about points anymore." And as if that's the answer to all your concerns he tries to leave again.

You stop him for the second time, only this time your hand slams against his chest, your aggravation more palpable on your tongue. "You're telling me no special treatment but you're also telling me that I don't have to work to earn my keep. I'm not one of Negan's-" you glance over your shoulder to make sure no one's listening before hissing, " _whores_. I'm not going to spend my days waxing my vagina and waiting for you to crawl into bed with me."

Simon rests his hand on the hood of the Jeep with a heavy sigh as he considers your words. "I know who you are heaven help the man who doesn't. If it suits you then I'll find you a job when I get back and," he looks you up and down, his eyes filling with the sort of innuendo that needs no words, "I don't expect you to wax _anything_."

You shift awkwardly, "well... I'm glad we can agree."

He chuckles, smiling at you and having the power to make you feel like a schoolgirl with her first crush even if you're trying not to feel anything. "I have to admit," he begins before reconsidering what he's about to say then saying it anyway, "you've taken this better than I expected."

"I'm not entirely unreasonable." At least not all the time.

"Good," he says, his hands wrapping around your arms and pulling you closer to him. When his lips press against your cheek, his moustache tickling your skin in a way that makes you tingle you realise you're wishing his lips were on yours in a real kiss and it's enough to make your hands bunch into his shirt, your body pressing just that little bit further into his.

Only, Simon doesn't kiss your lips, he leaves you wanting more as he jumps into the Jeep, cranking down the window and deciding, "this is probably a good time to tell you, Negan has arranged the wedding for tomorrow night."

If it was at all possible, you'd forgotten about your upcoming nuptials or at least pushed them to the part of your brain where they didn't exist. "Tomorrow?" you exclaim, any thoughts of kisses now long gone, "I'm not that fucking reasonable, Simon!"

"I'll see you later then," he replies like you've taken the news well or at least as well as he could have expected and there's no time to say more before the engine is rumbling on, leaving you standing in the cloud of dust the wheels kick up as he finally makes his escape.

You've barely had a chance to gather your thoughts and decide what you're going to do next when you turn to see two of Negan's wives sashaying towards you, their tiny dresses leaving little to the imagination.

"We've been looking everywhere for you," Frankie says while Tanya hooks her arm around yours as if you were the best of friends. You weren't. You wouldn't say you hated Negan's wives or how they sold their bodies for an easy life. They were just the kind of people you'd never liked, entitled, lazy, manipulative and the end of civilisation hadn't softened your worldview so much as hardened it.

"We have something to show you," Tanya whispers sweetly and Frankie's overeager giggle is enough to make your stomach turn over.

"I'm busy," you say.

Frankie hooks herself around your other arm, "we know you're not."

"And I fucking insist," Negan's voice booms across the forecourt and you look up to see him overseeing you and his wives, Lucille sitting on his shoulder, his leather jacket missing in the heat.

You want to say something snappy but you're saving all your snap for Simon so you sigh and do as you're told.

You follow Negan and his wives all the way to his private chambers where they sit you on a plush velvet sofa before scurrying off to gather whatever it is you're here to see. Only Negan remains, he sits Lucille down and takes a seat in the chair opposite you, his lips pressed into a hard line.

You've been in his room before so the opulence doesn't surprise you and you've spent your fair share of time with Negan so the way he's watching you only makes you slightly uncomfortable.

He leans back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours, "I recall you telling me that you were, in fact, a fucking lesbian. Now correct me if i'm wrong here sweetheart but I do believe that my man Simon is, in fact, a fucking man." His eyes fall to you stomach and a smirk snakes across his face, "I mean, he must be with what you have cooking. Now, how do you explain that? Did you slip and fall? Did you change your mind about dicks? Or was it the hungry caterpillar he has crawling across his face?"

You can't tell if he's playing with you or being serious but you do know that Negan doesn't like losing. "You're right. The mustache changed my mind," you say, trying to make a joke and regretting your words as the smile falls from his face.

He kneels before you, a frown creasing his brow, his eyes scanning your face as your heart pounds for what feels like hours. When you'd told Negan you were interested in women you'd decided it was the easiest way to get him to lose interest in you. Since you hadn't planned on being in a relationship with anybody you hadn't expected your white lie to cause any problems. The problem was, if Negan hated one thing it was lie.

"You could have just told me 'no'," he says eventually, scoffing out a dismissive laugh.

You don't say anything and you don't dare to breathe a sigh of relief. You know you could have said 'no' but you didn't want to risk the chance that he might try to pursue you anyway.

When Negan moves to stand behind you, a chill runs along your spine, your eyes focusing forward. His fingers are gentle as they wrap around your hair, tugging your head back so you're looking at him, "at least if I'd put my dick in you, I would have known when to pull the fucking thing out."

Your hand cups your belly and suddenly you want to defend Simon, "maybe we wanted to tempt fate."

"You wanted a screaming baby?" Negan mocks, he's known you long enough to know that's not true.

"Why do you care what I wanted?"

"I don't," he says, walking until his falling back into his chair. "You were fresh pussy, I tried to fuck you but it ended there. Simon on the other hand happens to be the best fucking friend I have in this godforsaken place and I'm hearing all kinds of stories about you and my right hand man..."

Frankie and Tanya return so you don't have time to answer Negan or do anything but laugh quietly at the way he's trying to question your intentions towards his grown man friend.

"Surprise!" Tanya beams standing directly in front of you, her arms bundled with dresses and strappy shoes.

"I had Dwighty boy pick these up for you," Negan announces. "A wedding is good for morale around here and lucky for you we're going to be sparing no fucking expense for Simon's special day."

Maybe it's all this wedding talk but you feel the all too familiar swirl of nausea and the dizziness that accompanies it. A pitcher of water sits on the bar behind Negan and you focus on it, asking nobody in particular, "could you get me a drink?"

You squeeze your eyes closed to the tune of heels clattering against the floor and when a glass of water is pressed into you hand you sip it, biting back the need to vomit and reconsidering the way you defended Simon. Having a baby is overwhelming enough without the added marriage or the added Negan.

"I like this one!" Tanya declares holding up a cream sheath dress that would have hugged your body awkwardly even before you were carrying around a little extra bloat.

"I hate it," you blurt and Frankie doesn't miss a beat, presenting an A lined alternative that makes you wonder what fresh hell you've gotten yourself into.

"You should try it on," Frankie encourages, laying the dress across the back of the chair and taking your hand to pull you up.

You glance at Negan and he holds up his hands, "I'll give you ladies some privacy," he brushes his thumb down Frankie's cheek, "but not for long, these dresses are giving me all kinds of fucking ideas."

When the door closes behind Negan, Frankie whispers, "is there anything that doesn't turn him on?"

"Urgh, forget Negan," Tanya pulls you into the centre of the room with a smirk, "I wanna hear about Simon and what he packing in those cargo pants..."

"Tanya," Frankie half scolds, the delight in her eyes betraying the horror she's trying to convey.

You laugh nervously, focusing your attention of unbuttoning your shirt. Hopefully once you start trying on the dresses it will distract from questions you don't want to answer and more importantly questions you don't have the answer to.

You slip the dress over your head without bothering to remove your jeans. It skims the floor and fits better that you'd expected not that you can see what you look like without a mirror.

"Sooo… aren't you gonna share any details?" Tanya pries as the girls begin to pull the strings that lace up the back of the dress.

You press the back of your hand to your forehead, glancing over your shoulder for you glass of water.

"What's he like?" Tanya encourages again, the smell of her perfume overwhelming as she hovers far too close to you.

"I don't know," you mumble, the room blurring, everything swaying like you've had one too many tequilas. Your head feels so heavy that you can barely keep it upright and as you step towards the sofa you can't keep it upright at all. You have the vague feeling of hands grabbing your arm, the sting of pain as your head connects with… something and then nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

When you opened your eyes you found yourself lying in the tiny medical room that played hospital to the Sanctuary's cuts and bruises. Negan, Frankie and Tanya stood on one side of your bed, Dr Carson on the other, all of them watching you with the same pitiful expression. It made you as uncomfortable as if they had been smiling at you, you hated being the centre of attention and more than anything you hated looking weak.

You managed to convince everyone except Carson to leave the room but that hadn't stopped Negan from pacing the hallway, his shadow sneaking under the door every time he went by. There were two shadows now and you could hear Negan barely finishing the word "fall" before the door slammed open and Simon barged in, his eyes wide with worry and his chest panting like he'd been running.

He crossed the room in quick strides, taking your hand in his and slumping into the little plastic chair as if he belonged there, by your side, playing the role of the concerned husband.

"I'm fine," you whispered, your head still groggy and your throat burning from the retching you did after you'd woken up but you were alive and you knew how precious that was.

Simon's thumb brushed against your wrist, his puppy dog eyes scanning the bandage on you head before finding the IV hooked into your other hand. He looked so concerned that suddenly you felt like you might actually cry as if you weren't feeling uncomfortable enough.

"What happened? Is it the baby?" he turned to Carson, his tone a little more urgent, "is the baby okay?"

Carson moved to the foot of the bed, "I believe the baby is fine. Although we don't have the proper equipment to perform an ultrasound. What happened is dehydration brought on by acute morning sickness. It's not the worst case I've seen but we still need to take precautions."

Simon's hand was gripping yours a little tighter now and you let him as you asked, "what precautions?"

Carson took the time to sit in his swivel chair. It was the kind of chair that belonged in a Doctor's office and he molded into the seat like he'd been born to play the role. "Ordinarily we wouldn't have to worry about a supply of IV fluids but these are extraordinary times. I'm not going to mince words here, I want you to understand that a simple case of vomiting can easily escalate into something far more serious. Dehydration, malnutrition, these things can kill-"

Suddenly Simon was jumping up from his little plastic chair and dragging Dr Carson out of the room by the scruff of his neck. He shut the door behind them and you couldn't tell what they were saying but you could hear the aggravated whispers.

When they returned Carson smoothed down his shirt, smiling brightly. "There are pills I could prescribe if I had them but other than that I suggest bedrest and-," and he scanned his bookshelf, grabbing a paper back and flicking through the pages before handing it to you, "you can find everything you need to know here."

 _Hyperemesis Gravidarum_.

Even reading the words made your stomach churn and you shut the book before going any further.

"I'll be back to remove your drip in a couple of hours but I'll give you both some privacy for now," Carson said, ducking out of the room without giving you a chance to respond.

You watched the clock ticking away on the wall, it sounded obnoxiously loud and if you had the strength you would have pulled the batteries out but you didn't have the strength to do anything more than look at Simon. "I'm going to starve to death surrounded by more food than I can eat."

"You're not gonna die," he replied, his voice filled with certainty.

"How many times do you think somebody has promised that?" you scoffed, you'd said those exact words more than once and the result had always been the same.

"This is different," Simon decided, practically ordered but even he couldn't bark orders to the universe.

"No, it isn't."

He looked at the ground, both of his hands cupped tightly around yours. "If you don't want… look, whatever you want to do, I'll understand."

You knew what he meant and truthfully you'd thought about it but despite yourself and every logical reason not to keep your baby you wanted to do it anyway. Maybe it was because you'd seen so much death. You craved the opposite and the idea of seeing new life taking its first precious breaths. Still, it terrified you and you found it hard to admit the words out loud but you knew Simon needed to hear them, "I want this baby."

He looked at you, his puppy dog eyes almost smiling, "Carson said there were pills, I'll find whatever you need."

"We've already scavenged every hospital and clinic for miles."

"Then I'll go further…"

"Now this is exactly what I didn't want. You're gonna risk your life for me and-"

"-not just you," his hand splays across your stomach, "let's take this risk together. I can't just sit on my ass and let you do all the hard work now can I?"

You liked the way his hand felt, you liked the way he was making you feel, like everything might really be okay. "I guess nothing I say is gonna change your mind on this?"

"Nope," he winked.

"You're stubborn."

Simon chuckled, sitting back in his chair with a creak of plastic, "I'm not the only one."

You bite the smile on your lips, settling you hand under your head and rolling onto your side to get more comfortable. It doesn't hurt that the position also gives you a better view of Simon and the way he's looking at you.

"And," Simon's smile fades as he thinks about his next words with a resigned sigh, "I'm gonna tell Negan there's not gonna be a wedding. At least until you're better but really there won't be one until you want it, if you ever want it…"

You hardly know what to say or how to feel.

" _But_ ," he continues, cocking his head to the side like he's sizing you up. "I want you to stay in my room," he holds up his hands, "no funny business. I just don't think you should be alone right now."

"You mean live with you?"

"You could call it that."

You had to hand it to Simon, he was sneaky, offering with one hand and taking with the other. "And if I agree to this then you'll call off the wedding?"

"Yes."

"And I can still keep my old room?"

Simon sighed, "yeah, don't worry you can leave me when you're ready. I'm not kidnapping you despite what ideas you might be concocting..."

You held off sticking out your tongue like a child. Instead, you pictured going back to your room alone, then you pictured Simon's big bed, his comfortable sofa and having him there to pass you the puking bucket when the mood struck. His offer made sense even if part of you knew it was a terrible idea to spend all your time with him.

"Okay," you decided, the word spilling over quicker than you intended. You should have made him wait longer, you shouldn't have seemed to keen.

Simon smiled, hopeful.

"This is purely out of necessity," you added quickly, asserting yourself. If you was going to live with him then it needed to be on your terms.

Simon kept smiling and his smile was still hopeful but you found it didn't bother you as much as it might have done. _He_ wasn't bothering you as much as he might have done.

You sank deeper into the pillow, closing your eyes like you were resting but mostly you wanted to avoid anymore conversations about the baby, the future and what was going to happen between you and Simon. The man in question didn't leave like you thought he would. He remained by your bed, steadfast as poured over the pregnancy and birth book that Dr Carson had given you.

You couldn't help but steal looks at him, wondering what pages were giving him a dopey smile and what pages were making his face as white as a sheet. Wondering if perhaps you did want to talk to him about the future and all that other stuff. When Carson returned you were almost annoyed at the interruption before realising you'd spent the past the past hour and a half merely watching Simon.

He caught you looking, his face beaming into an even wider smile as you questioned if he knew you'd been watching him the entire time. Your cheeks filled with pink at the notion and it was the perfect opportunity for him to tease you but he didn't say anything except, "let's get outta here."

When you tried to stand your legs were a little weak, your head still dizzy and before you could even think of taking one step Simon was scooping you into his arms like you weighed no more than a baby bird.

"This is a little unnecessary," you said weakly.

"Just relax," he crooned, "let's not fight over every little thing."

You did what he said, pressing the side of you face to his chest and closing your eyes. You couldn't help but breath in the smell of his skin and you couldn't help the way it made your heart flutter.

His room was ridiculously close to Dr Carson's office and you found yourself wishing it wasn't. Then when he lay you on his bed you found yourself missing the safety of his arms at the exact same time you wondered if you'd left your sense with Dr Carson. Even before the end of the world you'd never been so... so… feeble minded. You didn't swoon, you didn't let men carry you around, you stood on your own two feet and you'd be damned if… you sighed, resting back against the bed. You'd be damned if you put up a fight now.

Simon looked along your denim clad legs then to the digital clock on his nightstand, "you can borrow something of mine to sleep in. I'll send someone to get your things tomorrow."

"I can get them."

"I'll send someone anyway," he smirked, turning to his dresser and rifling through the drawers. He lay your makeshift pajamas at the end of the bed, stroking his hand over his moustache before turning to face the opposite wall while you changed.

You didn't move at first, in fact you hardly breathed. You simply stared at the way his shirt tucked into his jeans as he stood statuesque, one hand resting on his belt, the other hooked into his pocket. Tall men were your weakness and he was the tallest man in the Sanctuary, you laughed at yourself as you dragged heavy limbs off the bed.

You couldn't imagine Simon wearing the shirt he'd given you but you'd never seen him in anything except what he wore to 'work'. It was a stark reminder that you were carrying the child of a man you hardly knew. Except, you did know something about him, when you pulled the shirt over your head you knew it smelled just like him. You pressed your nose to your shoulder, breathing in deeply before slipping under the crisp cotton sheets.

"You can turn around," you said, your voice sounding a little more nervous than you'd like. I mean, this was hardly your first time in a man's room and you were clearly not a virgin but you were feeling vulnerable in a funny sort of way.

Simon turned to face you, his gaze clocking your pile of clothes before trailing along the shape your legs made under his quilt. He swallowed hard, shifting on his heels and not saying a single word as he took a seat on his sofa and began unfastening his boots.

You realised he was making himself comfortable for the night, squeezing his long legs onto the sofa while you barely took up any space in his giant bed. The gesture made you smile and you thought about telling him to share the bed with you before deciding your heart couldn't take a night with Simon's body pressed against yours.

You switched off the light, nestling your face against the covers and being completely saturated in the intoxicating scent of Simon. It didn't make your sensitive stomach churn, it made your heart dance and with a small sigh you once again questioned the sense of your decision to stay in this room with him. You were already starting to forget all the reasons why this had been a bad idea.


	9. Chapter 9

When you woke up Simon was gone, leaving you alone in his room like you truly belonged here. Like you stayed over all the time. What was weird was it didn't feel weird. It was comfortable, familiar even or at least it was more familiar than the countless places you'd slept since you'd left your home to face the end of the world.

You hooked your leg around the sheet, rolling over to check the time and gasping when you realised it was after ten. You couldn't believe you'd slept so long and as you nuzzled your face into the scent of Simon's pillow you couldn't remember the last time you'd woken up without any idea of how you were going to spend the day. Dr Carson had prescribed you bedrest but what did bedrest mean anyway?

An entire day in bed would drive you crazy and even if you didn't have work there were always other things that needed doing. Laundry, cooking, taking a shower; things that had once been so easy were now chores that had the power to consume your free time.

Laundry was the worst or at least it was for some people. The Sanctuary didn't want to waste power running machines so everything had to be done the old fashioned way. You could barter with someone to do it for you but if you were honest you enjoyed the monotony of it and you liked the way it filled the endless hours of a day without Internet. As the idea of laundry crossed your mind you spied Simon's pile of dirty clothes and snorted, you weren't that desperate for amusement. Not yet.

You sat up, your head already starting to spin like you'd spent the entire night riding roller coasters and suddenly bedrest seemed like a great idea afterall. You would have laid back down if it wasn't for the simple fact that you were starting to stink and even if you didn't have any intention of getting closer to Simon you weren't trying to repulse him either.

You wanted to at least brave a solar shower before crawling back into bed and just as you were about to put one foot off the mattress there was a gentle knock on the door.

For a split second you considered it might be Simon before deciding that he wouldn't have knocked. Maybe it was Carson? Regardless, you slumped back against the pillows, temporarily defeated by the way the room was swaying as you called, "come in."

The door opened slowly, too slow. You wondered if the person might have changed their mind when two wary brown eyes finally peeked out.

"Come in," you said again and with trepidation that was frustrating to watch a young girl finally shuffled into the room although she looked like she might shuffle out at any moment. You didn't know her name but you'd seen her around, mostly in the garden, usually with her head down pruning or doing whatever it was you did to help the plants flourish.

"Are you looking for Simon?" you asked, surprised that he would know this girl and curious as to why she might be here.

She shifted uneasily, her hair falling over her eyes and her gaze darting around the room, searching, exploring, uneasy.

"Well, are you gonna tell me why you're here or not?" you said, your tone a little sharper.

She sucked her bottom lip, barely breathing as she pulled a slip of yellow paper from the back pocket of her jeans. She stepped towards you in considered steps, her hand slightly shaking as she held out the paper.

You snatched it with a weary sigh, unfolding the creases to see a handwritten note, the penmanship lacking but legible.

' _This is Daisy. She's going to help you while I'm away for a couple of days._ _ **Be nice.**_

 _-Simon'_

You turned the paper over searching for more writing, more information, anything really but that was all. Not only had Simon gone he hadn't said goodbye, not properly anyway. You didn't quite know how to feel about it but you did feel something, it weighed heavily in the pit of your stomach and with a forced smile you pushed the feeling away, focusing on Daisy.

You were just about to think of something to say when she scurried into the hallway, returning quickly with a large box which she set on the foot of the bed.

The box was filled with your belongings, mostly clothes but as you dug down you found a book that had been on your nightstand. Suddenly your cheeks were red, mortified by the idea of Simon finding what had been in the drawer of your nightstand. The only thing worse was the idea of Daisy seeing it. "Simon packed this?" you said quickly.

Daisy nodded, her face giving no suggestion that she had found you battery operated friend and you breathed in relief. If Simon had found it then he'd at least had the grace not to pack it, hopefully he'd have the grace not to mention it either.

"How old are you, Daisy?" you said, mentally changing the topic that was still leaving your cheeks red.

Daisy stared at her sneakers, her fists bunching into the pockets of her hoodie as she considered her answer like you'd asked her the secrets of the universe. When she finally spoke she was like a mouse, a tiny stuttery squeak that barely carried the four feet that stood between you. "Seventeen."

You remembered being that age, sneaking out of the house, your first boyfriend, the summer you'd had your first part time job. It was a special time. Daisy stood before you like a stranger to your 17 year old self. She was terrified, of you or maybe everything. You couldn't blame her, you'd seen enough to know to be terrified too. "You don't have to do this. Look after me, I mean, I can manage on my own-"

Daisy's eyes grew wide, her face losing colour as she rushed towards you, falling to her knees like she was at your mercy. You knew Simon wouldn't have frightened her into doing this for him which made you realise he'd had probably offered her the world or as close to it as she could get, points, and here you were threatening to take the chance away.

"Okay," you said softly, softer than you'd been in a long time, "you can stay."

She smiled, watching you with her big brown eyes and waiting for you to tell her what to do next. It made you uneasy, it was hard enough letting Simon help you. "I want to go for a shower," you admitted eventually and Daisy might not have said much but she did more and even if you didn't want to believe it, you needed the help.

When you went to sleep that night Simon hadn't returned and Daisy took his place on the sofa, curled into tight ball and for the first time, relaxed. You hardly slept. Being a Savior was easier than this. The waiting, the wondering, knowing Simon was out there and there was nothing you could do. You hated it.

When Simon didn't return the next night didn't sleep at all and in the morning you found yourself in Negan's parlor, slumping on his sofa and watching as he ushered his wives from the room.

"Shouldn't you be tucked up in bed waiting for your dear devoted fiance?" he mocked, taking a seat opposite you and smiling with the same smug smirk he always had. "Because if you're here looking to share a bed with yours-fucking-truly then I'm gonna tell you, my dick is off the table. I don't like fucking girls who might puke on me even if I was into fucking pregnant women."

You had half a mind to say the sort of smart assed remark that would make Simon grin. Instead you said, "I wanna know where Simon went and who he took."

"He didn't tell you?" even Negan looks surprised.

Your heart sank, you could almost feel it sliding from your chest and sinking to your feet. More than anything you don't like the way Negan's looking at you now. "Where did he go?"

Negan stands, walking to the window where he can pretend to be interested in the view. "He took a group to Saint Mary's."

" _Saint Mary's?_ " you repeat, almost wishing you hadn't heard it. St Mary's was one of the closest hospitals to the Sanctuary but it was overrun and blacklisted by Simon several months ago. You'd seen it with your own eyes, you'd heard Simon say it with your own ears. 'Too many dead ones to make it worth the risk.'

You can't help yourself, you can't stop yourself, your lip wobbles and tears roll freely down your cheeks while Negan watches you with a vague look of remorse. For once he might actually be uncomfortable and you find your voice filled with venom as you demand, "why did you let him go there?"

"I didn't let Simon do anything doll. He's a big boy, he knows the risks and he took them anyway. You should be fucking grateful."

"Don't tell me what I should think!" you spit, pulling yourself up from the sofa and wiping the tears from under your eyes. You're embarrassed for about a hundred different reasons and terrified for a few more. Your hearts pounding, your stomach's churning and all you can think about is getting away. You don't want Negan to see you like this, hell, _you_ don't want to see you like this.

Negan holds your shoulder as you try to leave. "Arat's with him," he says like it changes things, like knowing she's risking her life might make you feel better. It doesn't, you feel worse than ever. You don't want to know the names of the people who are risking their lives to get medicine for you. You're ashamed to be such a burden.

Soon an entire week has passed and with your nausea only getting worse and dark circles carved under your eyes you're starting to consider stealing a truck and heading to Saint Mary's yourself. As you form the plan you realise how crazy it is just as you realise how much you already care about Simon and finding out what has happened to him.

You're sitting on the end of the bed, slipping your feet into your shoes and considering asking Laura to join your fools errand when the door opens. You look up expecting Daisy but find yourself dazed when you realise its Simon. Simon, here, safe, strolling into the room like nothing has happened. Your mouth hangs open, words lost on your tongue.

He's wearing his leather jacket, his face and nose marked with what looks like ash. He smiles when he see's you, dropping the bag he's carrying onto the floor and throwing out his arms to scoop you into them. You can hardly breath or think as Simon holds you, the smell of fire filling your nostrils and the zipper of his jacket uncomfortable against your skin yet none of it bothering you. Your heart is happily hammering, welcoming his return and the way it makes you feel to have his arms wrapped around you.

"A little bird said you were missing me," he whispers, loosening his embrace just enough so that he can look at you. "A bigger bird said you'd been worried about me."

You're drowning in butterflies and you're not sure you like the sensation as you squirm for escape from his solid embrace. "I was worried about everyone," you say coolly and he lets you slip from his arms just like you wanted except you don't want it now.

"I'm sorry you were worried about… _everyone_ ," he says turning away from you and sliding his jacket from his shoulders. " _Everyone_ is okay and I think we found what you need."

"You did?"

He glances over his shoulder, "I said I would, didn't I?"

"I thought St Mary's was impenetrable," you say, watching him hang his coat on the back of a chair, a smile crinkling back into his face as he turns to you.

"It is, _was_ , at least for some people anyway."

A moments silence lingers between you before he begins unfastening the top buttons of his shirt. You wonder if you should look away but can't seem to take your eyes off him, watching his fingers tiptoe down his chest. The soft downy hair that covers his tanned skin calls to your lips like a swan song. You're almost caving into desire before he turns to the dresser, pulling open the top drawer and almost toppling over your box of clothes.

"I'll make you some space, you don't have to keep all your things in here," he laughs, sliding the box back into place and grabbing himself a change of clothes.

You watch in silence, imagining your clothes in the drawer next to his and your scent on the pillows as your lives merge into one. Then you imagine the sleepless nights wondering where he is, if he's safe, if he's coming home or if you'll have to empty his side of the drawer and forget what it was like to smell his skin.

"You don't need to," you whisper, bracing yourself against the way he looks at you. "You said yourself you've found what I need. I have Daisy so I see no reason why I can't move back to my room."

For longer than a heartbeat neither of you move, neither of you breathe as you wait for him to say something. He doesn't say a word, his lips press together, an aggravated hand running through his hair as a breath of air huffs through his nose. When he slams the dresser drawer you flinch and suddenly you're both still again.

You don't know how long you both stand there in silence but after a while you can't bare another second of it. You don't even try to grab your belongings you head right for the door.

"You're as cold as goddamn stone," he says, his words stopping you in your tracks, your fingers lingering on the door handle.

You've never been accused of wearing your heart on your sleeve and if you're cold now it's because you're too far gone, too broken. "I told you-."

"I know what you've told me." He laughs dismissively, "if you need me you'll ask, right?"

You bite the inside of your cheek, your heart pounding. You'd spent the past week worrying, picturing the unimaginable happening and for all that you were trying to do to protect yourself this felt just as bad. You wondered if you were doing the right thing but you couldn't seem to do anything but just stand there, frozen.

"You should get your things," he says, moving to the door and stepping out into the hallway. "I guess I'll see you around."

Simon leaves you standing in his room feeling deflated and you kick the door shut as a tear rolls down your cheek. You're about to grab your box when you spot the bag he brought back with him and without too much consideration you pick it up, upending the contents onto the bed and feeling even more emotional when you realise what they are. It's a baby hat and a matching blanket, the kind you get in a hospital, the kind you'd seen in every first baby picture your friends had ever shown you.

You hold the tiny items, staring at them as your thumb brushes over the soft cotton. It's already too late to protect yourself from the things you're afraid of. In a few months you'll have a new life that's depending on you and you'll have all the worries that come along with it.

You shove the hat and blanket back into the bag before quickly picking up your box only to hesitate as you stand in the doorway between Simon's room and the rest of the world. Even now, even after everything you've decided and everything you've said, you can't decide whether you want to stay or leave. What will you do?

* * *

 _Thank you for reading! A few of you suggested keeping some tension between them and I'm all about that but at the same time what do you think you would do if you were her! Some of you also mentioned baby scans/baby shopping that kind of thing so I was thinking of having a time jump next chapter and maybe finding out the gender of the baby. So with that in mind I'm gonna let you guys decide. Tell me if you're enjoying this series and tell me if you want to have a baby boy or girl :)_


	10. Chapter 10

It was stubborn pride that had given you the final push through Simon's door and some days you wondered if you'd made the right decision. Even three months later you'd find yourself catching his eye and quietly wishing he'd pull you back into his arms like you hadn't walked away.

With a sigh you pushed the idea to the back of your mind, it was no good dwelling on past decisions and you didn't want to spoil today. You'd been looking forward to this day for weeks and you'd spent a great deal of time convincing Dr Carson to convince Simon that it would be an excellent idea.

You were running early. The excitement to finally get a chance to not only leave the Sanctuary but also see your baby had made you spring out of bed this morning. Well, maybe not spring. You didn't exactly spring anymore. At almost five months pregnant you rolled.

Your hand was rubbing absent minded circles on your rounded belly when you stepped into the mess hall, almost accidentally bouncing into Fat Joey as you spotted Simon already waiting for you.

He was sitting on the edge of a table, his laughter filling the room and making your heart leap at the sound of it. A girlish grin was right on the brink of filling you face when you spotted a waify redhead eating up his every word. She had her long hair curled around slender fingers, her jeans cut low enough to show more than an inch of washboard abs while you stood in the doorway feeling like a baby manatee and not in a cute way.

You might have thought that a man expecting a baby with another woman would have taken him off the market but it had only seemed to make him more desireable or maybe you were just noticing it more. This wasn't the first time you'd spotted the shy flirty smiles of a women looking to find her way into his trousers and you found yourself wondering if he'd accepted any of the offers that had surely come his way. That idea lead you to curl your fists into balls, your spine straight and your jaw clenched as you stormed across the room.

It was probably fortunate that the redhead slinked away before you had the chance to say anything and potentially embarrass yourself. But that didn't stop you from standing in front of Simon and demanding, "who was that?"

Simon slid off the table, towering over you, his smile unwavering. "That was Penny."

"Well I don't like her," you spat, your hand on your hip in a way that reminded you of your mother.

Simon snorted, "you didn't even know her name until ten seconds ago."

Maybe it was the hormones, sure, you could blame the hormones for what came out of your mouth next. "I don't need to know her name to know she's a whore."

He rested his hand on his belt, cocking one eyebrow as he carefully looked you up and down, "have you lost what was left of your damn mind?"

You glanced away, the sting of his words making you realise that this wasn't you. You didn't call women whores and you certainly didn't get possessive but you were in no mood to back down. "We're having a baby so that means you should be thinking about what kind of girls you're spending your time with."

"Last time I checked I was a free agent. You said yourself, there's nothing between us until the baby's here so that gives me four more months of doing whatever the hell I want."

"The baby _is_ here," you snap pointing to your swollen belly, "it's here right now so you better think about that before you start fucking all these random women."

"Wait a minute," he says pointing his finger at you, his laugh rumbling slowly across his chest, "is it at all possible that you might be jealous?"

Your cheeks heat and he begins to laugh a little harder like you've proven his point.

"Maybe I am jealous! Jealous that you get to act like nothing's happened while I'm lumbered with this," you gestured to your belly once again and his laughter stops.

"Well I'm sorry to lumber you," he says, grabbing his jacket and walking away so you can only catch a glimpse of the way his face has fallen.

You clench your teeth together, frustration curling your fists into even tighter balls. You're overreacting and saying everything wrong and if you were completely honest you were also being a total bitch. You didn't feel lumbered, lumbered wasn't the right word at all. In fact, right now what you felt was… horny. Insatiable. The idea that Simon might fuck another woman annoys you in more ways than one.

Silently cursing your big mouth you follow him outside to where the Jeep is waiting and when you've both taken your seats you can see the way his eyes keep flicking to your belly, his hesitation to take you to Hilltop is palpable before he even begins to speak. "I know Carson said it would be better for you to see his brother for a sonogram but now I'm thinking it might be better for everyone if I bring the other Doc here instead."

"No," you say quickly, your hand gripping his forearm. "Please don't change your mind about this. I've been stuck in the Sanctuary for months and the drive to Hilltop is so pretty and... I wanna see the fields and breathe the fresh air and not feel like I'm trapped here."

You were gripping his arm even tighter now and even you hadn't quite realised how stir crazy you'd been the past few weeks. Now that your sickness had pretty much disappeared, you were finding life inside the walls like being in a prison. Everything was so dark and grey and your room felt smaller now that you were bigger. When you'd gone up to the roof to see over the walls all you'd seen was tarmac, concrete and the dead.

"Take me, please," you pleaded, your voice dripping with desperation and somehow sounding as sweet as you ever had.

You notice the exact moment Simon caves. His puppy dog eyes melt like chocolate buttons and a small smile creases into his cheeks. "Okay. I'll take you but if anything happens when we're out there then you have to promise to do exactly what I say. I mean it. I don't want you getting out of this Jeep until I say you can and I definitely don't want you fighting."

"Okay," you chime, clipping your seat belt into place and grinning like a kid at christmas.

The drive is everything you hoped. Sure, there were the occasional roamers but beyond that there were fields filled with lush green grass and wildflowers growing untamed. The smell when you roll down your window is rich and fresh, the scent of springtime orchestrated by birds chirping in the trees.

"Thank you," you whispered, your hand landing on his knee and both of you sharing the same look of surprise before you quickly turn away, your heart thumping so hard you feel like he can hear it. If he can he doesn't say anything and if he did you're not sure you won't say something awful and ruin things.

When you reached Hilltop you didn't have to wait to be seen by Dr Carson. Having your own armed guard took care of that sort of thing and when he begins to gesture you inside his medical room you realise Simon is still waiting with the others.

"Aren't you coming?" you call, the eyes of all the Saviors focussed on you and then Simon.

He hesitates, glancing at the others before walking close enough so only you can hear when he whisper, "I thought you wouldn't want me to."

Your stomach sinks and you it's shame that's make you feel this way. He's the father to this baby and you've pushed him so far away that he's willing to miss out on this special moment. "I do want you to," you whisper, feeling sheepish.

"Yeah?" he smiles and you feel even more guilty than you did before.

"Of course I do," you say, leading the way inside.

While Carson sets up the machine you lay on the medical bed and your gaze can't help but keep wandering to Simon who's sitting besides you. Today is the first time you've really spent together since you'd left his room. He'd topped up your points and you knew he spoke to Carson about your checkups but other than that he'd stayed away just like you'd asked.

When he catches you looking at him he smiles and before you can say or do anything Carson says, "are you ready?"

You roll your shirt over your belly, gasping when Carson squeezes a huge dollop of ice cold gel onto your skin.

"Sorry," he chuckles, pressing the probe against your belly with a surprising amount of force and for a moment you think you might actually pee your pants but then a grainy imagine flicks onto the screen and you can't think of anything else. It's a baby, your baby and it's really there.

"It's perfect," you blurt and you're not sure who makes the first move but suddenly Simon's hand is wrapped around yours.

You can see the profile of its button nose and the way its little legs are kicking around. And even though you knew what this imagine was going to look like you had no idea what seeing it was going to feel like.

Simon kisses the back of your hand, whispering, "I can't believe we made that." And you can't believe it either.

"Everything looks good," Carson says eventually. "I'd estimate you to be around 19 weeks pregnant so you're already pretty much half way there. I don't see any reason why you can't have a normal, healthy delivery so we can start thinking about your birthing plans in another couple of months but for now would you like to know the gender? "

It's weird but you hadn't even considered finding out the sex of the baby, you'd just been so excited at the prospect of actually seeing it moving around in there. You look at Simon and with an unspoken agreement you answer, "yes?"

"Hell yeah," Simon adds with his boyish smile.

"Okay, well I've checked it a couple of times to make sure and it looks like you're having a baby girl. Congratulations."

 _A girl_. A wave of emotions washes over you and you burst into tears. "Oh my god," you say dumbly. Somehow knowing the baby is a girl adds another level of realness and when you look at Simon he's grinning from ear to ear.

"I was wanting a girl," he admits.

"You were?" you sniffle, dabbing your eyes with the tissue Carson has handed you before wiping away the gel that's coating your bump.

"I figured a little girl will belong to her Daddy and I want at least one lady who lets me spoil her," Simon gushes, his eyes glazing over with a far off expression that leaves you feeling a little jealous of your own baby.

When you start to pull your shirt over your belly he holds his hand out, "can I?"

You nod, pulling your shirt back up and barely breathing as his palm rests on your bump. His hand feels rough and warm, just the way you remembered it and your skin tingles for more while a barely noticeable wiggle of movement curls inside your belly and reminds you why he's really here right now.

"I was jealous," you admit, staring at your sneakers instead of Simon. "I was jealous that you were talking to somebody else and I think no matter what you do, or who you do it with then you're be a great father. This baby is lucky to have you."

His hand slips from your stomach and you pull your shirt down, sliding off the table with as much finesse as you can manage. You don't know why you think this but you're hoping that Simon will just let you say what you've said without the sort of reaction that might make you say more. Of course he doesn't, he turns you to face him and he tilts your head so you're looking him in the eye.

"You never have to be jealous," he says like he knows just how to break your resolve. "There's no one else," he adds as if you might not have understood his meaning.

"Okay," you squeak, sounding very unlike yourself and feeling on the brink of saying something ridiculous like you might be falling in love with him. Is that what's happening? Or is it just the hormones speaking?

Dr Carson returns from wherever he had disappeared to and hands you a stack of baby photos, giving you the perfect opportunity to look away from Simon. "She's gonna need a name," you say, changing the subject.

Simon chuckles, "well I don't mind what you wanna pick as long as it ain't Negan."

You laugh, loud, feeling less like you're on the brink of blubbing some emotional nonsense and more like yourself as you bat your hand across his chest and say, "I think baby Negan is a great name."


	11. Chapter 11

The knock at the door made you jump. Daisy had left over an hour ago but it wasn't too crazy to think she might return. Even though you'd told her she didn't need to check on you anymore she still did and if you were honest you liked the company as much as you liked the snippets of information she had about Simon. You were almost sure she gave Simon the same kind of information about you and whenever she left you found yourself smiling, wondering what details she would share. Of course what you should have been doing was talking to Simon and sharing the details yourself.

You sighed, rolling from the bed. It had been almost a week since your sonogram and nothing had changed between you. You knew Simon had been busy taking a team out almost daily but you weren't talking, you didn't see him and despite that you were thinking about him more than ever. In fact, you'd done more than think about him, you'd dreamt about him too and the dreams had only left you wanting.

You opened the door, prepared for Daisy's shy smile but finding Simon's instead. You did a double take, cheeks heating at the memory of last nights dreams before you consoled yourself with the fact that he had no idea about your dreams.

"Hey," he said, the sound of his voice only making you more aware of your secret fantasies.

"Hey," you repeated, knowing you should invite him in but somehow not saying anything more.

"Is this a bad time?" he asked, his eyes trailing over your body as you realised it was 11am and you were still wearing pajama bottoms.

Your blush deepened, your hands trying and failing to cover the multicoloured donuts that were sprinkled over your legs. "I was reading," you lied, somehow reading sounded better than what you had been doing, _nothing_.

"I-" he hesitated before inching closer, his hands sliding along the door frame as he filled it. "I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" you couldn't keep the excitement from your voice.

Simon waggled his eyebrows, looking a little bit more sure of himself.

"Well what is it?"

With another glance at your pajamas he chuckled and told you, "get dressed and you'll find out."

"Don't I at least get a clue?"

"Nope," he sealed his lips with an invisible zip, looking as adorable as he looked attractive and for a moment you just stared at him. A dopey smile filled your face from cheek to cheek before you realised what you were doing and shut the door.

You didn't have many options of what to wear, in fact you only had one clean pair of jeans which you squeezed into before stretching a once loose fitting tshirt over your belly and pulling on a pair of sneakers. For your hair you shook it out, staring in your mirror and wishing you hadn't as you quickly scraped it back on top of your head, wondering if you'd ever bother with makeup or a curling wand again.

When you were finished you opened the door to find Simon leaning against the opposite wall, his hands shoved in his pockets. "Let's go," he grinned and you found yourself picturing this exact scenario with a small child instead of you; surprise adventures with Daddy. The idea gave you a warm fuzzy feeling and you floated on it until you were outside and he was opening the door of a large truck.

You didn't know what you had in mind but this wasn't exactly it. Laura and Fat Joey were already waiting inside and you gave Simon a wary look which he countered with, "you're just gonna have to wait and see."

Waiting and seeing wasn't exactly your style. "Do _you_ know where we're going?" you asked Laura.

"You heard the boss," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders and a smile that told you she knew exactly where you were going.

Wait and see. You'd never felt more impatient in you life and maybe that was because you'd never had anyone try to surprise you like this. Even before the end of the world, nobody had ever made that kind of effort and Simon doing it now seemed even more surreal. He was a man with a million things he had to think about and he'd pushed them aside to think about you.

You smiled, clipping in your seat belt and biting back your impatience. Luckily you were on the road for less than thirty minutes when Simon said, "we're nearly there. Close your eyes."

"Close my eyes?" you laughed but he was serious. So serious he stopped the truck and from his pocket he pulled a long fabric strip.

"No peeking," he said, reaching towards you to fasten the blindfold over your eyes. The brush of his fingers had your spine tingling as you tried not to sigh at every lingering touch.

The remainder of the journey was over in the matter of a few minutes and when the truck stopped again you held your breath, the temptation to peek was almost unbearable but you didn't give in. You hands clutched to your knees as you listened intently to every sound. Simon getting out of the car, Laura and Fat Joey following behind. A clatter, hushed whispers, scraping then your door swinging open.

There was a pause, you could almost feel the heat of Simon's skin as he seemed to hesitate in your doorway. You were almost about to say his name when he took your hand, the feel of it making your heart jump as quickly as butterflies began to flutter excitedly in your stomach.

"You didn't peek did you?" he asked as his other hand hooked under your arm and he guided you from the truck.

You shook your head, relishing the closeness and the way his hands made you feel. They were so solid and secure, if you were to fall you'd never hit the floor and you knew right then how rare it was for you to trust someone so implicitly.

He guided you over what felt like tarmac before it changed to something smooth, more like lino than tile before he finally let you go. His voice sounding a little further away when he said, "you can look."

You clung to the excitement of the surprise for a little longer before slowly peeling away the blindfold, your eyes squeezed shut until it was completely removed.

When you opened them you looked around dumbly, the lighting was dim but your eyes quickly adjusted, first finding Simon then finding all the things that stood around him.

"If you don't wanna-" he began quickly, his face falling

"It's perfect," you said, your gaze flicking between the cribs and strollers that were part of the huge baby store you were standing in.

"Yeah?" Simon allowed himself a smile and it really was perfect. "I've made sure everywhere is secure for a mile around here so you don't need to worry about any surprises."

Suddenly the past few days made more sense. He hadn't been working, he'd been doing this. Part of you wanted to cry but then Simon opened his mouth and said, "I thought you might wanna do this before you get too big."

You cocked your head to the side, biting back a laugh and teasing him instead, " _too big_?"

"I mean…" his eyes landed on your belly, "bigger. But in a good way. You know… you should be getting… ah I'm not gonna come back from that one am I?"

"You're a real smooth talker," you chuckled, your eyes landing on the racks of maternity clothes and talking of bigger, you couldn't waddle over fast enough.

"But I guess you're right," you said, picking up a pair of maternity jeans, the stretchy panel at the top looking like a little slice of heaven.

"Do you think it would be weird if I changed into these right now?" you asked, pulling at the waistband of the ones you were wearing and deciding, "these ones are strangling the baby."

Simon's eyes landed on your belly and swept along your legs, "I'm not one to complain when a woman takes her clothes off."

You laughed nervously, your skin anticipating his touch as you wondered if he would make some kind of a move except he began moving the wrong way. "I'll fetch a cart and give you some privacy," he called before disappearing.

Privacy was the last thing you wanted and you were starting to admit that it wasn't all down to hormones. It was down to Simon. The only problem was you. You didn't know how to do anything about it and you wasn't sure if you even could.

So, wearing a pair of maternity jeans and a huge smile, you put ideas of Simon's hands and other parts to the back of your mind. Instead, focusing on the excitement of baby shopping and you hardly knew where to begin. This would probably be your only chance to do anything like this before the birth and there was at least one advantage to the end of the world, no price tags.

You don't know how long you spent lost in a world of thermometers, nipple cream and cellular blankets but it was starting to make your head hurt. Now you were staring at cribs, bassinets and cradles and wondering which one you should choose.

"I had no idea babies needed so much stuff," you lamented, rocking a bassinet and watching the little bears on the hood gently swaying. "A couple of my friends had babies but we were waiting, we were remodeling our house and-"

You stopped yourself. You hand slipping from the bassinet as you swallowed all the words back down in one big lump. You didn't like to talk about before and you especially didn't like to talk about _him_. You didn't want to even think about him, it was too painful and it would only spoil what was turning out to be a nice day.

You glanced at Simon hoping his silence was a sign that he hadn't heard you but one look into his puppy dog eyes told you he had. He picked up a stuffed animal from one of the cribs, smoothing down its fur before tucking it back into place. "We tried for years to have kids," he said eventually, the words lingering between you before he chuckled sadly, "I always thought it was me."

You touched your belly, the proof that it hadn't been him. Once upon a time you'd both been a 'we' and an 'us' with somebody else, somebody that was gone. There was no right thing to say except, "I'm glad we're having this baby."

"Me too," he smiled, his eyes lighting up.

You picked out the white crib along with sheets covered in pink bunnies and then it was time to go home.


	12. Chapter 12

On the drive back from the baby store you're tired enough to fall asleep but too happy to shut your eyes. Instead you find yourself gazing at Simon, strangely mesmerized by the way he's concentrating on the road, his hands smoothing the steering wheel into every turn.

When he catches you looking, he smiles warmly and you realise right there and then that you're in love with him. It's not a question anymore, it's not something that might happen, it's something that's been happening since the moment he forgot to knock on your door.

"Are you okay?" he asks as if he can read the very thoughts whizzing around your head but you say nothing, your mouth hanging open, your throat feeling dry enough to choke you.

Without your answer Simon goes back to looking at the road, his brow perplexed but not enough to warrant further enquiry. Afterall, you are _okay_ , you're not ill and from the outside nothing has changed in the past few minutes.

When he reaches for the can of rootbeer that sits between you, you snatch it from his hand, gulping it down and relishing the way the bubbles burn your throat as you try to ignore your new found feelings.

"Thirsty?" he says, giving you an odd look and still you don't reply. In fact, you don't say a single word until the truck is parked within the Sanctuary's walls and Simon's handing you a stack of baby blankets, asking, "can you manage those?"

"Yes," you whisper, clutching them to your chest and biting back the tart response you would have usually given him for such a silly question. You might be feeling sheepish and have no idea how to actually act around him but you're not so ridiculous that you can't handle three baby blankets.

Thankfully Simon seems to be oblivious as he bends into the truck to slide out your new flat pack crib. The box is large yet he throws it onto his shoulder like it's filled with helium rather than wood leaving you thinking two things. One, you wouldn't mind him throwing you onto his shoulder and two, how the hell is this going to fit into your shoebox sized room?

"I'm not sure I have the space for all of this," you say as you begin to follow behind him and as usual Simon seems to have the perfect solution.

"You and the baby can have my room," he insists, not missing a beat and leaving you to wonder if he's already thought about the arrangement.

For several paces you chew your lip, feeling weird about kicking him out of his own room while simultaneously imaging yourself lounging on his sofa, sleeping in his bed. "I don't know…"

"It makes sense," Simon shrugs, once again defying gravity and proving that his biceps aren't just for staring at even if that's exactly what you've been doing since he started carrying the box.

When you eventually arrive at his room, or your room, Simon kicks open the door and sits the box next to the bed while you flop onto the sofa with an unladylike grunt.

"Make yourself at home," he winks, leaving you blushing as he quickly stashes some dirty clothes into his hamper and moves coffee cups from various surfaces to the kitchenette.

"I didn't take you for a slob," you tease, battering down some of the tension that's being borne from nothing but your own mind, and Simon pauses his hasty tidying, laughing softly.

"I've been preoccupied… turns out trying to make you happy is a full time job."

"You're good at it," you say without really thinking, and you don't regret your words,even if they leave you feeling more vulnerable than you would like.

Simon glances at his boots, his face unreadable, "you stay here, relax, I'll uh... get Fat Joey to help me bring everything in."

You don't even have chance to say 'okay' before he's hurrying from the room, leaving you to slump even further into the sofa with a frustrated sigh. You're not sure what you wanted Simon to say, just that you wanted more. It might be selfish but for the last time you need him to make the moves you're too afraid to do on your own.

When you hear the telltale sound of Simon and Joey returning you squeeze your eyes shut, pretending to snooze to avoid the prospect of saying something completely insane like 'I love you'. You just don't count on how good it feels to have your eyes closed and it isn't long before you're curling up on your side and actually falling asleep.

When you wake up you're covered in his quilt and the room is stacked with baby supplies, Simon sitting in the middle of it all with a screwdriver and a look of determination.

"I hope you don't mind me getting started on this?" he says, gesturing to the half built crib when you start to sit up.

You shake your head, running your fingers through your hair to flatten it back down. "She's your daughter too."

Simon's smiles, nodding towards your feet, "can you hand my that long bit?"

"This?" you question, your hand resting on the most likely piece of wood.

Simon nods, reaching out for you to pass it to him before his concentration returns to the crib. You watch him for a while, noting that he isn't bothering to read the instructions and thinking that he'd get it finished a lot quicker if he did but you don't mind. This is nice. So nice that you don't want it to end.

"Are you hungry?" you say, realising that he's almost finished and that when he has there will be no reason for him to stay.

"Starving," Simon replies, carefully holding a screw between his teeth.

"I have some food in my room. I could bring it here…"

His gaze flicks to you, his puppy dog eyes making your head swim. "If that's what you want..."

You smile brightly, too brightly. All teeth and no words. You can't remember the last time you felt this nervous. You know you're not acting like you usually would but you can't help it. You've forgotten what it felt like before you knew you loved him and now you feel like you might burst. But not enough to actually say the words, saying them would be far too real and you're not sure you're ready for that.

When you return with food you decide to knock on the door, creating boundaries when all you want to do is shed them.

"Hey," Simon says when he answers and it's just one word but you have butterflies and that cheesy grin is back on your face.

"Hey," you say, noting that he's changed his shirt and wondering if you should have changed yours, not that you have many options.

"Let me get that," he insists, taking the box of food from your arms and standing aside so you can enter.

While you've been gone he's stacked the baby stuff a little neater, there's soft music playing in the background and the faint smell of cologne as you brush past him.

"So what'cha cooking good looking?" he teases, waggling his eyebrows as he drops the box onto the kitchenette.

You laugh nervously, "just don't get your hopes up."

"Too late," Simon replies, making your heart beat in time with the butterflies whizzing around your stomach.

You wonder if this dinner was really a good idea, then you wonder if telling him how you feel will be a good idea and yet again your throat is dry.

You pour a glass of water, draining it down and focusing your mind on dinner. You hadn't made any plans on what to cook and truthfully you were never great in the kitchen, making this idea just one bad idea in a long line of bad ideas.

"Simon?" you say, contemplating blurting it out rather than forcing you both to endure what you feel like is going to be an awkward dinner.

"What?" he says, looking directly at you.

"Nothing." What were you thinking? Literally nothing could be more awkward than talking about your feelings.

But this time he doesn't ignore the weird way you're acting. "Are you okay?" he says and you know you can't get away without answering.

"Yeah, I don't know, I think the hormones are making me a little crazy." Sure, blaming the baby is an excellent idea.

Simon smirks, "I'm pretty sure you were crazy before."

" _Hey_ ," you scold, backhanding him across the chest, your heart dancing to the way he starts to laugh and somehow you feel more relaxed.

"You know I read the baby is about the size of a sweet potato," he says, grabbing one from your box.

"Really? Then why do I look like I'm hiding an entire sack of them under here?" you joke, pointing to your belly.

"I think you look beautiful."

You freeze, your reply taking too long to form, leaving tension to fill every inch of the room before you finally blurt, "you know I'm not paying you to say these things?"

Simon doesn't laugh, he shifts from foot to foot, an agitated hand running through his hair. "I should probably go," he mumbles.

"But..." your stomach plummets while you try to think of what to say, "we haven't even started dinner."

"I don't think I can," he says, barely looking at you as he starts to grab some clothes from his dresser, "maybe some other time."

"But this is your room," you plead, hating the shrillness in your voice.

"It's yours now. I'll come by tomorrow to get the rest of my clothes."

"I don't want you to come by tomorrow!" You practically shout, stopping him in his tracks, his hand slipping from the door handle.

"What do you want me to do?" he asks, turning t0 face you. "Because I'm trying my goddamn best to give you what you want but in moments like these I just don't understand why... why we can't be together!"

You'd wanted him to make a move but somehow this comes as a surprise and you're unprepared. You could say nothing or you could say everything. Regardless, you differ on your decision for so long that he starts to leave again.

"You don't understand," you say quickly, tugging his bundle of clothes from his hand and letting them fall to the floor. "I don't want you to come by and collect your clothes tomorrow. I want you to stay here and… I want to stay here too."

It feels like eternity before Simon speaks, his eyes boring into you, "what exactly are you saying?"

"You know what I'm saying."

Simon scoffs, looking you up and down, "do I? Maybe I need you to say something a little bit more concrete."

You look away, you heart thudding in your ears, one part of you desperate to tell him more the other part of your cringing at the prospect of it. "Like what?"

"That's cute," he says sarcastically. "But if you can't say more then I can't stay."

You glance back at him, words almost on the tip of your tongue before you swallow them back down. "I really don't like ultimatums."

"Well I don't like having no damn idea what's going on inside your head so here we are…"

You pause, collecting your thoughts. "I think that maybe, I might... have some feelings for you…"

Simon contains his reaction but you can almost see the twitch of a smile as he asks, "what feelings?"

"Are you hell bent on torturing me?" you snap, your temper flaring and forgetting this might have been a nice moment.

Simon laughs, "maybe I am. Maybe it's nice to see you enduring some of what I've had to endure every second I've spent with you since the first day I met you."

Your temper simmers down, you don't want to fight him even if part of you enjoys it.

"I love you," he says without any hesitation, "and I think what you're trying to say is you love me too."

You snort, feeling equal parts elated and terrified, "that's a pretty bold statement."

Simon cups your cheek, his hand rough and warm, "so tell me I'm wrong."

You lick your lips, wanting him to kiss you, "you're not..."

Then without another word he does it. He presses his lips to yours and it's exactly what you've been wanting since the last time he kissed you. You kiss him back eagerly, rolling onto your tiptoes, your hands sliding around his neck to pull him closer. He tastes faintly of rootbeer and entirely of Simon. Home and masculinity, so moreish you could live inside the kiss for eternity if you didn't have to take a breath.

When you fall on the bed together it's careful, this giant man trying his best not to squish you while you urge him closer. "You don't have to be gentle with me."

"I do," he says, caressing your swollen bump before pulling off your shirt and kissing your belly button.

With a contented sigh you resign yourself to the gentleness, relaxing while he explores your new curves. Even if this isn't the hard and fast rhythm you've been craving you can't deny how good the glide of his tongue and the bristle of his moustache feel against your skin as he finds all the right places.

When he removes your bra your nipples are already tightened and the flick of his tongue has heat throbbing all the way to your clit making sure you're now feeling anything but relaxed.

You grasp at the buttons of his shirt, pulling them open excitedly until your fingers are stroking across the hard tanned lines of his body and tangling in the soft hair on his chest. "I need you," you whisper and Simon smiles, kissing your cheek before he kneels between your thighs.

"I don't wanna rush this, I wanna enjoy having you in my bed," he says, slowly unfastening your jeans and carefully sliding them down yours legs, peppering you with kisses as he does it. Usually you'd curse yourself for wearing granny panties but Simon doesn't seem to mind, the way he looks at you remains unwavering, loving.

After one more kiss of your bump his lips brush along the inside of your thighs and you moan, goosebumps prickling along your skin, your anticipation heightened as you feel his hot breath soaking through your panties.

"Simon," you moan, raking your fingers through his hair before he tugs your panties off with one hard pull. The heat of his breath on your naked pussy makes you even more wild and you don't have to wait very long before his tongue teases along your slit.

You moan his name again, your legs quivering and he licks you harder, holding your hips as you grind into every stroke. His tongue feels better than you remember and Simon knows exactly what to do with it. It's not long before you're on the brink of an orgasm and making no attempt to stop it shaking across your body in one long shudder of bliss.

"Oh god," you cry, your toes curling, your hands grasping the sheets as you feel your body begin to soar.

You're barely conscious when Simon kisses you, the taste of sex on his lips enough to bring you back to life. With your help he kicks off his remaining clothes before his hands balance either side of your head, supporting his weight as he presses his thick cock against your pussy.

You thrust your hips towards him, your hands sliding over his butt to pull him closer so you can finally feel the fullness only he can provide.

"Look at me," he says, waiting for your eyes to meet before he finally allows his cock to slowly sink inside your pussy, joining you together. For a moment neither of you move, both of you adjusting to the feeling but more than anything both of you enjoying the closeness.

"I love you," he says, kissing you gently before his cock begins drawing in and out in long, slow strokes that seem to hit every spot. All you can feel is him, all you can think about is him and the way your bodies are moving together.

Both of you hold off release for as long as possible, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin and exhaustion settling in your limbs in the best way but it can't last forever. You cling to him, your climax more powerful than the last and as it washes over you Simon's body tenses, his cock pumping harder to fill you with his release.

This time you don't feel any worry or regret, only satisfaction and comfort. You're eyes are heavy, your body well spent and when he pulls you into the safety of his arms all you can think is, _this is right._


	13. Chapter 13

Waking up in Simon's arms is as good as falling asleep in them. You're in complete bliss, relishing the soft cotton smell of his sheets and the way the rough skin of his palm feels cupped against your breast. You feel protected and in this world that's never a bad thing.

When you finally begin to stir he pulls you closer to him, his erection hard against your back and his words a deep breathy whisper, "can't you feel how much I want you again?"

You laugh softly, moving wasn't much of a choice and you'd been feeling how much he wants you again for most of the morning. "I need to pee," you admit and he gives you one last squeeze before letting you go.

As you reach for your clothes you can feel the way his chocolate brown gaze melts onto your skin and you can't deny how much you're enjoying it. With your body taking its new shape you're somehow feeling sexier than ever before and maybe that's all down to Simon. In fact, when you turn to look at him, you know it is.

He's pried your heart all the way open and now its overflowing with the kind of love you didn't think you'd ever experience again. If you could pause time and remain in the happiness of this morning you would. But like all good things, the mornings peace is short lived and rudely interrupted as Simon's door barges open without so much as a cursory knock.

When you turn around you see Negan shamelessly glancing along your bare legs with a wicked grin. "I guess the wedding's back on. Half the goddamn Sanctuary heard you two making nice last night," he announces and immediately your cheeks start to burn.

Negan is an expert when it comes to making a person wish the ground would swallow them but unfortunately that isn't going to happen any time soon. All you can do is focus on shoving your legs into your jeans and hoping that he can't see how much he's bothered you.

"It's not very nice to tease a pregnant woman," Simon says and if Negan had already embarrassed you it was nothing compared to the second hand embarrassment you have when Simon stands from the bed wearing nothing but his mustache.

Even Negan can't help but look at what's dangling between Simon's legs and you suppose that shouldn't really surprise you much. If there's one thing Negan loves its dicks, primarily his own. "My my Simon, I guess it's a little cold this morning," Negan says and you bite back a tart response.

Getting into an argument with Negan would be pointless and with the baby kicking your bladder you're just about ready to wet your pants. "I'll leave you both to it," you say quickly, making a beeline for the door before remembering the last time you ran from Simon's room and feeling terrible.

You pause, turning back to him with a reassuring smile. "I love you," you say, trying the words on for size and you don't know who looks more surprised by your uncharacteristic outburst, Simon or Negan. Regardless, you need him to know that you're not going to change your mind and quite frankly you want Negan to know he can't fuck with you or Simon even if he wanted to.

Simon's surprise quickly turns to quite possibly the cheesiest grin you've ever seen and despite the enthusiasm on his face you don't expect him to say it back. Negan would never let him hear the end of it, so you leave before he even gets the chance.

When you return back to your room Simon is already gone to help Negan with whatever it was he needed but there's a note on the table. 'I love you too' it says and suddenly you're delirious with the kind of puppy love that should only be reserved for middle schoolers. You tuck it away in the cover of a book, knowing you'll be returning to look at it more times than you'd ever admit.

"Honey, I'm home," Simon jokes when he returns later and you're far too interested in what he's holding to care about what he's saying. It's a casserole dish of food and it smells divine. You could get used to this.

"I had to sell my soul a little bit to get us this but you're worth it," Simon winks before placing the pot in the centre of the table and planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. You could get used to this too.

Inside the dish is some kind of chicken casserole and your mouth waters. It isn't everyday that you get to eat fresh meat. In fact you can't remember the last time you did. Negan always got first pick of any chickens that were slaughtered and even a man like Simon would be lucky to get a share.

You quickly help set the table then sit together in what must like a picture of post apocalyptic domestic bliss. The phrase 'too good to be true' tries to ruin your good mood but you ignore it. Maybe the good times won't last forever but for now you don't want to do anything but live in the moment.

When dinner is over with there's little else to do but enjoy a big slice of dessert and since there are no desserts available you have to be creative.

Simon kisses you, his hands curving over your belly. "You know… seeing you carrying my baby is kind of a turn on," he admits sheepishly and you laugh, surprised.

"I guess you should make the most of it then," you decide, your fingers brushing over the buttons of his shirt before you begin to tug them open.

Unlike last night he isn't unsure or treating you like glass. He pulls you harder against him, his kiss is more demanding and after you've torn off each others clothes you lean over the foot of the bed, shaking your behind as seductively as you can manage.

"Fuck me, Simon," you say and he looks like he can barely contain his excitement, his hand pumping his swollen shaft, his breathing ragged.

"You have no idea how many times I've imagined you like this," he says and you blush, thinking of all the times you've imagined it too.

When Simon's big hands finally clasps against your hips you feel the familiar flood of warmth just begging for his cock. From the way he groans as he brushes the tip over your pussy you know he can feel it too.

He begins sinking into you slowly, filling you up until he's all the way inside and your hands are balling into the bedsheets.

"Fuck," he pants, pausing to enjoy the tight feeling of your body wrapping around his.

"More," you beg, grinding against him and already craving the ultimate high.

He begins to thrust his hips, his hands exploring your skin as his cock fills you over and over again. You know you can't hang on long, it feels too good so you urge him on until you're riding the wave of your orgasm and Simon's cock is pumping you with his release.

"Jesus," he says afterwards before gently pulling you onto the bed and kissing your swollen stomach. "I just couldn't stop myself."

Neither could you. After last night you've spent most of the day desperate to have sex with him again.

"We've got all evening," you whisper coyly. Afterall, you have to make up for lost time and with no TV there's not much else to do.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading. I ended up taking an unexpected hiatus but I'm back and determined to finish this story and give Simon the ending he deserves 3_


	14. Chapter 14

After your first day living with Simon the weeks seem to tick along in a whirlwind as you both enjoy watching your belly grow in what you like to think of as the calm before the storm.

After all, you're not an idiot, as cute as babies are you know exactly how much hard work it's going to be to raise one. Especially now. It's not just the night feeds that are worrying you and surprisingly it's not the dead either. There's a new threat on the horizon in the shape of a man named Rick Grimes.

Simon keeps telling you not to worry, to focus on the baby and at nearly nine months pregnant it's pretty hard not to, but you know this is different. Rick and his people aren't like the others. They won't be made to kneel.

In truth you didn't exactly love the way Negan handled other groups and in the back of your mind you'd always known it wouldn't last forever but you'd accepted the way things were just like you'd accepted the walking dead.

However, it isn't until right now that you truly realise how much of a threat you're facing. Suddenly the idea of sweeping all your unspoken worries under the rug seems stupid. The threat is real and it's here. Right now.

The intruder standing before you is a woman. After that nothing else matters except the way she holds her rifle directly at your unborn baby.

Instinctively your hands cover your bump, your heart thundering in your chest. People have attacked the Saviors before but never once have they made it into the Sanctuary.

"Please," you whisper, wondering what has driven this women to be here now. Surely she knows she may never make it out of here alive.

At first her furrowed gaze focuses solely on your stomach, eventually it trails to your face and when it does you know she won't shoot you. She might be here to kill but she isn't monster enough to hurt a pregnant woman.

In fact, she looks as shocked to find you as you are to be found. For a brief moment of insanity you want to help her, to tell her to run and never look back. But her hesitation in finding you catches up with her and as quickly as the standoff has begun it's over.

Arat and two others tackle her to the ground, the side of her face crushing against the concrete before they stretch her arms behind her back, securing her wrists together.

You remain still, watching the entire thing in a daze and barely hearing what Arat says as she tries to comfort you with an awkward pat on the shoulder.

"I'm okay," you lie, hoping it's enough to get her to leave you alone and it is.

Arat's attentions turn back to the intruder as she helps drag her into the bowels of the Sanctuary like a dirty secret.

Now, you can no longer deny the truth. The Sanctuary isn't safe, perhaps it never has been.

When Arat is gone Simon finds you, his arms wrapping you in a bear hug before he kisses the top of your head and mumbles, "thank God."

"She could have killed me," you say, the fear still pumping adrenaline around your body and leaving you feeling as if you might throw up.

"We need to be more careful," he replies, taking your hand and leading you back towards your bedroom.

You don't say anything more. You don't have the strength to argue but all you can think is, 'careful?'. How much more careful could you be? This place is supposed to be your home.

The next morning Simon tells you the intruders name is Sasha and knowing her name makes the gnawing feelings that are beginning to scratch at the back of your mind feel worse.

You probably have little in common with Sasha except you're both alive but at the end of the world maybe that's enough. Still, you can't deny that she's killed some of your people and you'd be a hypocrite to defend her life even if you dared speak against Negan.

In the past you might have done but he was different now, things with Rick had made him angrier than you'd ever seen him. Sure, he tried to hide it under his cool smiles but his temper was on a hair trigger and you weren't the only one to notice the shift.

Maybe what's really bothering you is that you think the Saviors deserve this. That maybe _you_ deserve this. Since the world ended you've spent a long time putting yourself first regardless of the consequences. The very real prospect of your new baby is offering a shift in perspective and you don't like what you're seeing.

As you watch Simon drive away with Negan to escort Sasha back to her people you feel powerless. The fact that she's taking the journey in a casket doesn't disturb you half as much as it does to watch everyone leave. They look like soldiers and you wonder, when did the living become a bigger enemy than the dead?

When Simon returns you can tell by the look on his face that things haven't gone well with Rick's people. Still, he smiles when he sees you and his first thoughts are the same as they always are nowadays, "any twinges?"

You pat your belly, silently urging the baby to hang in there as long as possible, "nothing yet."

Simon's smile broadens but you can tell he's forcing it. He's still worried about whatever's happened and you can't tell if you love or hate him for putting on a brave face.

You pat the seat next to you on the sofa and he takes his place reminding you of the good dog your Grandpa had had when you were a child. You stroke his leg in much the same way before asking, "what happened?"

Simon covers your hand with his own and for a second it looks like he's going to spill every last drop of worry. Instead he swallows it down, "nothing you need to think about right now. Don't worry, you know Negan, we have everything worked out."

Those kinds of happy lies might work on other people, the kind of woman married to Negan but you're not them. You don't want to bury your head in the sand and let everybody else make the tough calls. Admittedly these past few months you'd been complacent. Pregnancy was hard work and you'd settled into taking a backseat but that didn't mean you were ignorant.

"I love you Simon but if this is going to work you can't hide the truth from me. Even if it's difficult. I want us to be a team."

Simon sighs heavily, leaning forward so his elbows are resting on his knees. You can't see his face but you imagine his brow is furrowed. "We're going to war," he says and that doesn't surprise you. What surprises you is when he admits, "I don't think we can win."

"Then we should leave," you say and he laughs no doubt thinking you can't be serious. I mean, leave the Sanctuary? For most people that would be an unimaginable death sentence but like you decided before you're not most people and neither is Simon.

For now you don't press the issue, leaving the idea to take hold in his head like it has been in yours but your pregnant belly is like a ticking time bomb and it isn't going to be long before the calm is gone and the storm has well and truly arrived.

* * *

Thank you for reading :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Warning: descriptions of labour/birth**

* * *

It had only been a couple of hours since you'd told Simon that you wanted to leave the Sanctuary and as the evening had deepened into night neither of you had mentioned it again.

Now you were climbing into bed and adjusting a hundred different pillows in an effort to make yourself comfortable while Simon relaxed on his back, carefree and unweighted by pregnancy. You envied him of that. Of all the things your body had craved since you'd beome pregnant you think you craved lying comfortably the most. Sleep was almost impossible at this point and you supposed it wouldn't get any better once the baby had arrived.

As you reach to switch off the lamp a lazy tightening of pressure rolls across your stomach before wrapping around your back and fading away. You're so used to the aches and cramps of being heavily pregnant that you barely register the pain and if you did, you wouldn't think anything of it.

When the second pain arrives you're lying down, your eyes firmly shut, leaving nothing to distract you from the pressure as it builds and recedes.

By the third your heart begins to race while two words scream across your subconscious like a battle cry. _IT'S TIME, IT'S TIME!_

Still, despite the alarm sounding in your head you remain paralysed, barely breathing as you wait to see if it happens again.

Part of you, and maybe it's wishful thinking, has decided that this is a false alarm and you'll be waking up in the morning rolling your eyes. But deep down, the other part of you, knows this is it. Ready or not, and right now you're leaning towards not. You'd be lying if you said you didn't want a few more weeks but you suppose that doesn't matter now.

You lie there for what feels like hours, although time has a strange way of moving in the dark. All you can be sure of is that Simon is one hell of a snorer when he sleeps on his back and by the time you decide to wake him, your contractions are starting to catch up with the rhythm of his snorting.

You flick on your bedside lamp but he remains undisturbed leaving you to envy his peacefulness and almost feel bad at the prospect of waking him. Almost. Afterall, you're the one doing all the hard word. All he has to do is watch.

"I think this is it," you say and he grumbles something, his lips slapping together before he rolls away.

"Simon," you nudge him, your voice a little louder and this seems to get his attention. He rolls back to face you, heavy lids peeling open from a deep sleep.

"It's happening," you repeat before heaving yourself from the bed and bracing your hands on the headboard as yet another contraction snakes across your belly.

The pain has already started to become less bearable and you wish you could ignore the niggling voice in your head which keeps reminding you, it's only going to get worse.

At the sight of you hunched over the headboard Simon's eyes spring fully open, realisation finally setting into his sleepyhead.

"It's time!" he says, rolling from the bed with so much uncoordinated vigour that his legs tangle in the sheets, sending him falling to the floor but not without hitting his head on the nightstand as he goes.

You roll your eyes, deciding this was why women gave birth and not men. When he stands up, there's blood pouring from a gash above his eyebrow but as usual he's more worried about you.

"What should I do?" he shouts, panic making his eyes wide.

Surprisingly you feel a wave of calm. You always knew this was going to happen, you'd spent months thinking about it. Now you just had to do it. In a way it would be a relief to have it over with. Just one contraction at a time, you remind yourself and when another rolls across your stomach you shut your eyes, floating in some far off place until you can open them again.

"Your head," you say to Simon, who's standing uselessly by the bed and somehow hasn't even seemed to notice the blood he's dripping onto the sheets.

You motion for him to follow you to the kitchenette where you find a clean towel to stem the bleeding.

"I should be taking care of you," he grumbles when you push him into a chair and press the towel to his head.

"You do… _usually_."

"If I could take some of the pain I would," he tells you before taking your hand and brushing a kiss against your knuckles. It seems like such a cheesy thing for a man to say but with Simon you know he means it.

Still, you can't help but tease him a little anyway. "You couldn't even get out of the bed without cracking your head open."

Simon chuckles, taking the towel from you hand and holding it for himself. "Then tell me what to do. You're the boss."

You know your labour could last for hours, maybe even days but you're clinging onto hope that things are progressing quickly. "Wake Doctor Carson. I'll feel better once I've been looked at."

"Are you sure you'll be okay on your own for a few minutes?" Simon asks, his eyes skirting over the room like it's suddenly a death trap.

"It's either that or you deliver the baby…" you point out and his face blanches.

"I'll be back," he says, leaving the door wide open as he runs down the hall wearing nothing but his briefs and a bloodied towel.

You want to laugh but another contraction arrives and stupidly you regret letting Simon leave you here even if its only for a few minutes.

/

Now its several hours later. Simon's head has three fresh stitches and the Sanctuary is awake, everyone waiting on the news of your baby's arrival. Although it's starting to feel like it might never be over.

Simon and Carson haven't left your side, both of them patiently watching as you pace the hallway like a wounded animal. The endless motion had been helping you, giving you something to focus on but it's not enough anymore.

The pain is now beyond unbearable and the time between contractions has dwindled to nothing more than a heartbeat. When they come now you feel like you're being slowly ripped apart and it might sound dramatic but you want to die. Dying would be far easier and a sweet release from the endless torture of labour .

"I can't take it anymore!" you screech, slowly edging to your room and feeling a gush of warmth as your waters finally give way, adding an extra level of discomfort to the situation.

"You _can_ do!" Simon encourages, taking your hand to help you walk.

Usually you relish his touch and the way his long fingers completely encompass yours but not right now. Today you want to ball your fist, rear it back and punch him directly in the face. If only he could feel a small part of what you're feeling, he wouldn't be so optimistic.

"I hate you," you hiss, snatching your hand from his before kneeling besides the bed and hunching over the mattress.

Simon isn't fazed by your outburst. He quietly takes a kneel besides you, one hand kneading pressure on your lower back, the other scraping the matted hair from your brow.

"I love you," he whispers but his words are lost as you begin to make a noise that resembles a cow being dragged to the slaughter.

"I think it might be time to push," Carson says and you don't care if he's got his head where the sun doesn't shine. You don't care about anything but getting the baby out of you.

You follow his instructions, pushing hard and long with every contraction. You push until your hands have nearly torn the sheets apart and your head is dripping with sweat. You're never truly knew what it meant to feel exhausted until right now. It's like you've been running a marathon and now you're being asked to climb a mountain.

You can't see the worry on Carson's face but you can hear it in his voice. "We might have to try another position," he says and you sob, feeling defeated.

"If you have to choose, I want you to choose the baby," you whimper, licking your lips for moisture.

Simon's face looks even whiter than it did when you went into labour. "Don't say that. Don't even think like that."

You can't help it, you don't even have the strength to stand and you're like a rag doll as Simon and Carson hook their hands under your arms and pull you onto the bed.

When you'd pictured your labour, you'd imagined one bead of sweat dripping a pristine path down your forehead, followed by one long hollywood push as your baby came bounding into the world. The reality is so far removed that you wonder why any woman would do it twice and for the first time in a long time you want your mum.

"I think we're gonna need to use forceps," Carson says as gently as he can and truthfully the idea of forceps had scared the crap out of you before but the pain has made you fearless.

"Just do whatever it takes," you shout through gritted teeth and what happens next is a steam of events you'd rather not endure with your eyes open, so you close them, praying for an outer body experience.

"Push," Carson says and you pull strength from a well you didn't know existed, bearing down and pushing so hard you feel your head might burst.

"Keep going!" Carson commands and you scream like you're being murdered, determination aiding your struggle, your hands biting into your thighs.

Then, suddenly, in the passing of a single moment, it's over with.

A newborn cry fills the room, echoing down the hallway to wash away your screams. The relief is immediate, the euphoria greater than anything you've ever experienced.

"It's a girl!" Someone shouts but you're lost to exhaustion, your head falling back into the pillows.

Somewhere in the background you're vaguely aware of Simon cutting the cord and Carson rubbing the baby with a towel, all of them quietly congratulating each other. But the reward is yours and you're overcome with a indescribably sense of pride. You did it. She's here and _you_ did it.

"She's beautiful," Simon whispers as he places a bundle of towel and baby on your chest.

Your shaky hands cradle her, your weary eyes desperate for that first precious glance. Her face his scrunched up, her tongue rooting for milk and even though she's looking more like an alien than a baby she seems so familiar to you. When her eyes slowly blink open they remind you of Simon, the soft downy hair on her head is the same shade as yours and there's something about her chubby cheeks that makes you think of your Grandfather.

"Hello," you say, letting her tiny fingers wrap around yours and feeling your heart swell with love.

"I'm so proud of you," Simon says and when you look at him he's got a dopey smile plastered across his face even if he is still a little pale, still a little shell shocked. You guess he's wearing the exact same expression you are right now.

You might have carried her for nine months and spent an entire day in labour but somehow you can't quite believe she's here. And she's yours. Ten fingers, ten toes, _perfect_.

Most women would be thinking about dressing their baby in its first outfit, finally settling on a name and showing them off but you're thinking about the conversation you had with Simon before she arrived.

You feel overwhelmed with responsibility to this tiny life and you've fought hard to bring her into the world. You're not going to give up now. You're not going to keep her where she isn't safe. When you're rested, you're going to leave the Sanctuary. You want to take her somewhere she can be free, somewhere she can play and laugh and not worry about strangers creeping in the night.

"Let's call her Sylvie, after my mom," you say and Simon doesn't protest.

He kisses the top of your head and whispers, "you're the boss."

You hope he means it, you hope he really will do whatever you want because if he doesn't you'll be leaving him too.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. I always feel like it would be so terrifying to give birth at the end of the world so I wanted to capture some of that. I felt exhausted just writing it haha_


	16. Chapter 16

Sylvie is two days old. Your womb still feels like it's going to drop out of your vagina, your nipples are on fire and you can barely walk without wincing but you like to think you're getting a handle on motherhood.

In an ideal world you'd want to give yourself more time to heal but things in the Sanctuary are never going to be ideal so you have to take what you can get. In other words, despite how sore you feel, you still want to leave. The sooner the better.

You've already started gathering things to take with you on your new life and when Simon comes back from his meeting with Negan you're going to to talk to him about it. You had been hoping he would bring it up on his own but that seems unlikely now and you're not going to wait around.

It's after dinner when he finally comes home and you're somewhere between asleep and just resting your eyes. _Typical_ , you decide as you roll over on the bed, just in time to see him scooping Sylvie out of her bassinet and pressing a kiss against her brow.

"You shouldn't wake a sleeping baby," you scold, thinking how you've spent the past hour feeding and changing her so you could finally get some rest.

Simon grins, his smile letting you know that nothing would ever stop him from cuddling his little princess. "I've missed her," he says, looking at her like she is the sun and the moon and you know the feeling. It's why you want to take her away from here.

He kisses her again, telling her about his day in the baby voice that makes you cringe and laugh in equal parts. Then, when he starts walking towards the sofa, he's interrupted by the rucksack you've conveniently left in the middle of the floor. You're not sure why, maybe it's the way he's smiling, but you're dreading telling him your plans and bursting the new baby bubble.

"What's all this?" he asks, nuding it with his boot, the slight touch enough to send the contents pouring over the floor.

"It's for Sylvie and me," you say, and Simon's eyes grow a little wider. He's probably wondering if you're planning on switching rooms and leaving him again. He's probably forgotten that you ever mentioned running away from the Sanctuary.

"What do you mean?" he says, sounding a little desperate as he cuddles Sylvie a little tighter against his chest.

"It's not what you think," you reply, trying not to wince as you climb off the bed. Afterall, showing Simon just how much it hurts when you move won't exactly do your argument any favours. "It isn't safe here anymore. I want us all to leave. _Together_."

Simon sighs. You know he's exhausted. Between taking care of the Saviors and taking care of you and the baby you don't suppose he's found much time to look after himself. "We'll make it safe. _I'll_ make it safe," he insists but empty promises aren't enough.

"You said so yourself, you don't think we can win this war. Why stay? If we're gonna lose this place we might as well leave before it falls."

"When I said that…" he pauses, brushing another kiss against Sylvie's hair, his arms dwarfing her tiny body. You can tell he's buying time and he doesn't quite look at you when he admits, "I meant… I meant we couldn't win if we did things Negan's way."

" _Negan's way_..." you repeat, hardly wanting to believe what you think he's suggesting. It's not the first time Simon has criticized Negan but you'd never thought he'd do anything about it. To do things any other way but Negan's would mean only one thing. You'd lived at the Sanctuary long enough to know that. With Negan in charge he made all the calls, right or wrong. Taking the lead from Negan was unthinkable.

"Maybe there is another way and maybe Negan or somebody else will find it but… maybe there isn't. Maybe this is it. Rick's coming for us and goddammit Simon, we deserve it! If we walk away we have a chance. If we stay, we could lose her and I'm not going to risk that."

Simon clenches his jaw, "you can barely even walk right now! How do you expect to fight out there? Don't you think I'm worried about you both? I'll do whatever it takes to take care of you, even if it means killing Rick Grimes and everyone he ever met."

You take Sylvie from his arms, pressing your nose against her cheek to inhale that sweet baby smell. She's so small, so fragile and like all children, so innocent. "Rick has kids too. They deserve to live just as much as she does and if you don't think that then you need to leave… _now_."

Your words seem to strike a chord within him and his face falls, his shoulders slumping, "that's not what I meant."

"I'm just so sick of hearing about what terrible thing we're gonna do next. I'm sick of it, Simon. We hurt them, they hurt us. It's never ending. We could find something new. A fresh start away from all of this. Just the three of us."

Simon drags his feet to the sofa, slouching into the seat, "I'm not gonna change your mind on this am I?"

You shrug. You know the dangers, you've already pictured them a thousand times. "I don't want this to be some sort of ultimatum. You're a good father and I can see how much you love her but yes. I'm not going to change my mind. We're leaving, with or without you."

Simon sighs, his palm slowly pulling across his face before he whispers, " _okay_."

"You'll come with us?"

Simon looks at you, his chocolate brown eyes reminding you of a lost puppy. "You're my girls and if this is what you want then yeah, I'll come with you. Whether I like it or not I'll make damn sure it works. Do you really think I could stay here and let you walk away?"

You shake your head. You knew he wouldn't do that. You were more worried that he'd try and keep you here. More worried that if he stopped you from leaving, you'd never forgive him.

You move to sit besides him, leaning your head on his shoulder and cradling Sylvie between you both, "thank you."

"You don't have to thank me for following you. I just wish you had more faith that I could make things work around here."

"It's not you I don't have faith in," you say, looking him in the eye. "I have so much faith in you that I think we can do better than this. I trust you, Simon."

A smile flickers over his lips and if you weren't holding Sylvie you'd catch it with a kiss but since you are you settle for smiling back.

"I trust you too, I just don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you or the little button" he says, standing up and examining the supplies you've started to pack.

"We'll be together," you remind him. Good or bad, no matter what happens, you're a family now.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading! I'm really enjoying getting back into writing this story and finishing it off for you guys. There's probably only two or three chapters left now :)_


	17. Chapter 17

Over the next few days you and Simon make preparations to leave the Sanctuary and it would be a lot easier if you didn't have to be sneaky about it. Simon has to move things from your room in several small trips, concealing them under his coat before hiding it all in a grey pick up he's selected for your escape.

You can't let anyone become suspicious, especially Negan. This means you can only take the essentials. Reusable diapers, an emergency tin of formula, pacifiers, sleepsuits, swaddle blankets. Sylvie's belongings seem to take up almost all available space. Which means you can't even think about packing the bassinet or the baby swing, all the things that were supposed to make your life a little easier. But you suppose at least you'll have each other.

When the supplies are finally loaded Simon takes the pickup on a routine patrol, stashing it in the garage of a nearby abandoned house. Nobody questions his movements because nobody questions Simon and for that you're grateful.

The only other person who knows you're leaving is Dr Carson. You couldn't leave without asking him to check over you and Sylvie one last time and getting the all clear is especially important to Simon.

As you head to his office your heart is pounding. You wonder if he'll stop you or say your plan is foolhardy. Maybe even recommend to Simon that you should wait for a few more weeks or even months. He doesn't.

"I wish you all the luck in the world," he says, when he's given you the all clear. "Just don't over do it. You lost a lot of blood so you need to keep taking your iron pills and getting as much rest as you can."

"I know," you say, smiling softly and trying to ignore the envy in his eyes. You know if you offered him the chance to come with you he would take it. But when Simon agreed to your escape he laid down some rules, and the biggest was that it would be just the three of you.

Still, you can't help but feel guilty. There are a lot of good people in the Sanctuary, none of them deserve to be left behind, including Carson. But you need to be realistic, getting the three of you away is going to be difficult. You're praying that Negan won't bother to send anyone after you, and when you're finally gone you know it will be hard enough to find supplies for three people. You don't want Simon to have the burden of more.

With your iron tablets and painkillers stuffed into your pocket you head over to the stores to cash in your points for as much food as they will buy. Because this is it. Today will be your final day in the Sanctuary if everything goes according to plan. No more points, no more Negan, just the three of you and the road.

After a day of preparations it's now 1am, everything is as ready as it will ever be and your nerves are fried as you wait in your room for Simon. The only thing keeping you from frantically pacing around the room is Sylvie who's filled up on milk and sleeping like, well, like a baby.

Dr Carson had said newborns need to sleep for up to 20 hours per day in their first few weeks and you're thankful for that. You don't want to disturb her peace so you remain seated on the edge of the sofa, your legs twitching and your stomach churning.

You're also grateful for the painkillers Carson provided you for the first few days of your escape. You don't think you could have standed the pain on top of the anxiety that seems to be gripping you like a vice and you're not sure what's worrying you more. The idea of Negan catching you or the idea that Simon might be right about leaving.

You can't pretend that you think leaving is going to be easy and that everything will work out perfectly. You're a realist and the idea of something happening to Sylvie is physically painful. When you think about it, even for a moment, it's like a stab in the heart.

It doesn't take a genius to know you'd never forgive yourself if something happened to her. You just hope the fear will make you better, stronger, more careful. You bite your nails, a habit you'd given up years before, and glance at the LED clock for the hundredth time. Simon said 1am but the minutes are slowly creeping to half past.

How long will you wait? An hour? Two? All night?

You know Simon has organised the nights patrol and put himself on the roster, laughing with the others that it's preferable to waking up with the baby. He told you it will make everything easier for your escape but you wonder if something unexpected has come up.

In fact, every moment since you've been preparing to leave you've worried something would come up. Mostly you've worried Rick and his people would attack before you could get away and right now you're feeling downright paranoid.

You hold your breath, listening to the soft thud of footsteps getting louder and louder. Closer and closer.

You get the sickly feeling that Negan knows your plan, maybe he knew it all along, maybe he has Simon chained to the wall and you're next. Paranoid or not, you grab your pistol from under the bed and point it at the door as it begins to open.

"Jesus christ," Simon hisses, and your heart begins to pound, relief washing over you.

"I was worried something had happened," you say, wrapping your arms around him and feeling safe when he squeezes you tight.

"You know what it's like. Everyone got to talking, I had to wait for the right moment before I slipped away."

You laugh nervously, he's only 30 minutes late. His reason is so obvious but sitting in the dark, feeling exhausted and consumed by hormones has obviously taken its toll. You know you'll feel better in the morning. When the Sanctuary is a dot in the rearview mirror you'll finally be able to breath.

"We have to go now," Simon says, releasing you from his arms and you nod, carefully picking up Sylvie and with his help, placing her comfortably in the baby wrap.

She kicks her legs a little but thankfully falls back to sleep, her head nestled against your breast, her tiny body feeling so fragile as you zip her into your coat.

You're not carrying anything but your weapons and even they're concealed, everything else is already in the truck. All you have to do is get there.

As Simon closes the door behind you both, you give one last look to the room which has been yours for so little time but already holds so many memories. You hope you'll be making many more together and, as frightened as you are, you're also a little excited.

At this time of night the only people who are awake are the ones on patrol, the ones guarding the store room and the ones still playing a game of cards in the lounge. Simon leads you down a route away from all of them but getting outside is the easy part. Getting past the wall is what you've been dreading.

It might sound crazy but Simon's plan is to walk right through the front gate. It's the safest option for you and the baby and if everything goes to plan it will be the quickest too.

Your heart is beating wildly as you follow Simon through the courtyard. Every rock on the ground seems to crunch under your boots and you find yourself wondering if you always walked with this much noise?

The shadows conceal you for most of the way but the final stretch is under the bright white glow of a floodlight. Nowhere to hide, nothing to stop you from being seen by the restless eyes of people who should be sleeping.

Simon pauses and you stop too, watching over his shoulder as Arat and Patrick patrol the gate, splitting a cigarette and talking quietly.

"Shit," Simon whispers.

Something's gone wrong.

"Wait here," he says, encouraging you back against the wall where you wait with bated breath.

"Aren't you supposed to be on the east wall?" Simon calls out, strolling towards the gate with a carefree bounce in his step.

"Aren't you supposed to be covering the gate?" Arat counters.

Simon laughs, "I had to use the little boys room."

Patrick's fairly new, he doesn't want to piss off Negan which means he doesn't want to piss off Simon. "I'm sorry, sir," he says, quick stepping to the east wall like a good little soldier.

Arat isn't so compliant. She takes a lean on a fence post, the cigarette now all hers as it dangles from the smile on her lips. "I've got this Simon, go home to you kid. Get some rest."

"Nah, I'm good. You keep patrolling the fence like we agreed."

Patrolling the fence takes at least 15 minutes if your pace is fast. Usually it takes longer. Either way it's certainly enough time to slip away into the night before anyone knows you're gone.

You bite your nails, waiting for her to start walking but she doesn't. She won't. Simon's already abandoned his post once tonight. She won't trust him not to do it again. The stakes are too high and he's a new dad, nobody could blame him for being tired.

Simon looks back towards where you're hiding. You know he can't see you and you wonder what he's thinking. Perhaps he's wondering the same about you? When his hand starts to slowly creep towards his pistol, instinct tells you to step from the shadows. You don't want your escape to be under a hail of bullets. Avoiding fighting is the exact reason you want to leave.

Surprisingly Arat doesn't look fazed to see you walking towards them. Simon's face on the other hand is white as a sheet. "Can't sleep?" she says, stubbing her cigarette on the floor.

You smile, thinking about nodding along and standing around talking until Simon's somehow convinces her to walk away. But every moment you stand under the glare of the floodlight you can almost feel Negan's eyes boring into the back of your skull.

You take a deep breath, your heart in your throat and your words spilling out of your mouth as quickly as you can say them. "We're leaving, Arat. We want to take Sylvie somewhere safe. All you have to do is walk around the fence and pretend you didn't see us go."

Arat's eyes dart to Simon and back to you again, her rifle raising a little higher in her arms. "Negan will kill you."

"Negan has his hands full," Simon replies, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and glancing down at Sylvie as if to draw Arat's eyes to her. "Look on the brightside, if I leave you get a promotion."

Arat doesn't laugh, her tongue darts across her lips, her finger brushing against the trigger, "what if Negan thinks I let you go?"

"He won't," you insist, desperation filtering into your voice. "Simon told you to patrol the fence and when you came back he was gone, that's all you know."

She doesn't like it. She's torn between Negan and her instinct to do the right thing.

"Are you really gonna shoot us? Or hand us over to Negan? Come on Arat, we both know you don't wanna do that. Let us go. Hell, leave yourself. It's only a matter of time before this place falls apart with Negan in charge," Simon reasons.

Her eyes narrow, her loyalty to Negan plain on her face but despite this her rifle lowers. She doesn't say yes, no or offer any unsolicited advice. With a heavy sigh she walks, never looking back, not even when the gate jingles open and closed.

You can barely breath and your legs are shaking as you take your first steps to freedom. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge, still imagining Negan watching you or just waiting for Arat to start shouting, "they've escaped, they've escaped."

But nothing happens, you keep putting one shakey foot in front of the other, disappearing into the dark and letting Simon take care of any walkers who cross your bath.

It's well before daylight when you're settled into the grey pickup that Simon had stowed away. Sylvie is strapped in her carseat, Simon is at the wheel and all of you are racing along the road to a new life.

When the morning starts at the Sanctuary you'll be long gone and you'll never know it but Rick and his people will be pulling up outside the gates, demanding Negan's life in exchange for peace. Then, as the bullets begin firing, Arat will be thinking about how you made it out just in time and how maybe, she should have gone too.


	18. Chapter 18

From the Sanctuary you head north hoping to put some space between you and the Saviors and, hoping to find a patch of wilderness to call your own. You figured if you got far enough from civilization there would be less dead to eat you are more animals to eat. Which meant hunting, fishing, basically all the things you'd never done before the world ended.

Like you Simon had grown up as a city kid but he'd also had a Grandpa who'd dragged him hunting every fall whether he liked it or not. Simon's hunting experience might not have been much but it was what you had. What you didn't know you'd learn and what you couldn't learn you'd improvise. The end of the world had seen to that, it had made you a master of improvisation and doing things that had once seemed impossible.

You're outside a Taco Bell when the truck finally splutters its last breath and grinds to a halt. Even with the extra fuel Simon had managed to bring it was never going to last forever. You'd just hoped it would take you a little further.

Simon slumps into his seat with a heavy sigh. He's been driving all day and it's not like before. Roads don't take you from A to B. So many of them are blocked by traffic that will never move again, hoards of dead or even something as simple as a fallen tree. There's no such thing as a short journey.

"I guess we're gonna be walking," you say, mentally rationing your painkillers and deciding you probably have about three days worth.

Simon grunts. "It's too dark to be walking right now. We should hold up for the night and I can try and find some fuel in the morning."

You don't say it but you think, _no you won't_ , there won't be any fuel around here just like there wasn't any fuel in any of the other places you'd checked on your journey. Unfortunately you're still inside the ring of Negan's reach and pretty much everything has either been picked clean by the Saviors or one of the groups working for them.

"We could hold up in Taco Bell?" you say, looking along the street at the apartment blocks. Some of them are burnt out, the others look like hives for the dead. In other words, too risky.

Simon sighs again, unclipping his seatbelt and letting it run through his fingers as his eyes shut for a moment's rest.

"Actually…" you begin, "before we do anything I should feed Sylvie then maybe we can check it out together."

You know he wouldn't agree if you said, why don't you take a nap? But resting while you feed the baby, that's far more palatable to the insane pressure he's putting on himself to keep you safe.

Simon yawns, heavy eyes checking the mirrors for any potential dangers. "Okay, but the first sign of anything. Anything at all. You wake me up. Rule number one, we don't take any chances."

"You know this isn't my first rodeo, right?" you sass and he grins, one big hand burying into the back of your hair as he pulls you to towards him, planting a kiss on your head.

"I know, I know. I'm over protective and it drives you crazy but, guess what? Get used to it cos you're stuck with me now, Mama Bear."

You give him a playful jab in the ribs before clambering into the backseat and yelping at the slap on the behind he gives you as you go. Times like these you could easily forget about Negan and the dead. It could just be an ordinary road trip. In fact, in another life it could have been a roadtrip to take Sylvie to meet her Grandparents.

By the time you and Simon are getting out of the truck and settling Sylvie into her baby sling the night has gotten a little darker but you're not feeling too worried. You haven't heard a single sound coming from the Taco Bell and from the front it looks as if its merely closed for the night. It isn't until you're exploring around the back that you see signs of looters and roll your eyes.

"You never know," you say to Simon before cradling the top of Sylvie's head and carefully stepping through the smashed glass door.

"I should be going first," Simon calls after you but you're already inside.

The place is as trashed as you expected it to be when you saw the state of the door and the first cabinet you open contains nothing but paper napkins and a couple of bugs.

"You like Mexican food?" you ask, distracting yourself from the disappointment that's filling the air with every empty shelf.

"I'm not sure I'd call Taco Bell Mexican food," Simon jokes, peering behind you and pointing his flashlight deeper into the restaurant.

"Oh? I have a connoisseur on my hands?" you reply, waiting for him to share one of his crazy stories. He usually has a story for everything and all of them make you laugh. But Simon doesn't respond and you turn to see what he's staring at just in time to see the shadows come to life.

Bodies that had been slumped over tables are beginning to twitch. It's like the entire restaurant has been frozen in time, waiting for someone to bring it back to life, and as more than a dozen dead eyes find the beam of Simon's flashlight you wonder why the hell you've been so careless. You were right. This wasn't your first rodeo or Simon's, it was Sylvie's and right now she's strapped helplessly to your chest.

Instinctively your hands wrap around her tiny body and maybe it's the way your heart is hammering against your rib cage but she begins to cry.

"Go," Simon commands and you don't wait, scrambling to the door as fast as you can while the dead flood the kitchen.

You can't see Simon fighting them but you can hear it in his grunts, the clatter of pans and the groans of the dead. Part of you wants to go back to help him but the larger part of you is, like Simon said, a mama bear. Getting her to safety is priority and there wouldn't be a single moment when Simon would disagree with that.

You cut your hand on the glass pulling yourself through the door but you can barely feel the pain as adrenaline floods your body, hurrying you across the parking lot. The furious beating of your heart is suddenly stopped when you spot more dead shambling from the darkness, weaving their way through the cars.

Sylvie's crying is like a beacon, it must be carrying for miles in the silence and if you wait around for Simon you'll be over run. With your legs shaking you jog to your truck, grabbing your rucksack and swinging it around to knock over a dead man who's in reaching distance. He stumbles to the floor, still grasping until you finish him with one hard stomp of your boot.

"Simon!" you yell into the night, pulling your pistol from your belt and praying you hear him say something back.

There's no reply. Only the snarls of dead.

The truth is you don't want to do this on your own. You're not brave enough and more than anything you don't want Taco Bell to be the last moment you ever saw him.

You raise your pistol, aiming it at the dead. You hadn't wanted to fire a round while holding Sylvie but protecting her ears is nothing compared to protecting her life. You squeeze the trigger twice and both targets drop, clearing a big enough path for you to escape.

By now Sylvie's screams have taken on a desperate warble and the sound is physically painful to you. You don't just want to stop her cries, you _need_ to. Every motherly instinct in your body is telling you to comfort your baby but you have to ignore it. You can't stop until you get her to safety, yet nowhere will be safe while she's drawing attention.

"Simon!" You shout with even more desperation and as you glance back over your shoulder all you can see are the dead. Shuffling from every side street, clawing from behind the windows of locked houses and cars. Neverending, never slowing.

Straight ahead you can only see more of them. All of them desperately marching towards you. You have to make a decision. Fight? Hide? Find a way to outmaneuver them?

You stop. Your breathing heavy with fear and Sylvie's cries ringing in your ears. How many bullets remain in the pistol? You need to keep count. You need to save one. If it comes to it, you'll only need one.

You aim, planning on shooting the nearest dead to buy you some thinking time when you hear, "keep going!"

Even if you wanted to you could never articulate what it means to hear Simon's voice. He's alive. You're not alone. No matter what happens he'll be with you. With tears swelling in your eyes you do what he says, keeping walking and feeling relieved when he finally catches up to you.

"Are you bit? Did they get you?" he asks frantically, staring at your bloodied hand.

"No... I cut myself on the glass."

The horror on his face relaxes but there's no time to wait around. "Come on," he says, pulling at your arm to hurry you along the street. Like you he's managed to grab his rucksack from the truck and somewhere along the way he's found a large metal pole which he uses to knock away any dead who come close.

"What are we gonna do?" you say, your relief at seeing Simon starting to wane as you realise your predicament has remained the same.

"We'll figure it out. Just keeping going!" he says but you're not superwoman or even close. Your burst of adrenaline has faded and the painkillers have either worn off or aren't strong enough to stop the searing pain that grips every step as you try to sooth Sylvie with pats on the back and gentle shushing.

An experienced mom might have had a pacifier handy. But Sylvie's pacifiers are at the bottom of your bag and somewhere in the back of the truck. You hope this is a lesson you'll be able to learn from and just as you're thinking about suggesting to Simon that you take shelter in a nearby house, two beams of light begin chasing you along the road.

You glance back to see an RV slowing down as it forces its way through the dead. Fear grips you again. The only thing worse than the dead is the possibility of Negan finding you.

You wonder, did you do enough? Travel far enough? Cover your tracks? Maybe they've been following you all day.

As the RV glides past Simon yanks you to the side of the road and together, you watch it pull over several meters away before the window winds down and a voice calls, "get in!"

You quickly look to Simon. Like yours his eyes are wide with worry. "We don't have any choice," he mutters and he's right. No matter who might be driving the RV you need to get Sylvie to safety. Right now.

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 _Thank you for reading! I think next chapter might be the last! Eek! I still can't believe this entire story started out as a tiny little smutty drabble lol._


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